The Detective's Daughter
by Panzer IV
Summary: Meeting someone is a once in a lifetime chances, a moment where sometimes it could worth more than your life. Having been able to reunite is a major struck of luck. Even if the next chance were as mutual enemies...
1. Prologue: Early Retirement

**The Detective's Daughter****  
**

**Prologue: Early Retirement**

"You WHAT!?" exclaimed Giuseppe after hearing Hillshire's last words

"Like I said, I quit the Social Welfare Agency."

"But...why? And so sudden! What caused you to do so?"

"I don't know..." Hillshire sighed "But I think it's about time I lay my hands off the dirty work of the government. I'll be finding some honest job as a banker, probably..."

"Is it because of something that had happened here? I mean, you did pull out such...well...request. I mean, I doubt Lorenzo would allow such request to be fulfilled, but..."

"Seppe, you don't know about my feelings towards her. She means a lot to me, and I think she deserves better."

"Hillshire! Come to your senses!" Giuseppe remarked "This means we're losing an fratello! You! And..."

"Triela? Yeah, I know. I just can't take it anymore seeing her each day, shoved into the killing fields, risking her life for me. She means a lot to me..."

Hillshire paused, taking deep breaths in between.

"I don't know since when, but...for all that matters, she's like a daughter to me—my daughter; my little princess."

"...and you're still a virgin...and single too. Have you been taking illicit drugs recently?"

Chuckling, Hillshire nudged Giuseppe in response "Shut up...!"

##

A day earlier, Hillshire--following a stream of his own 'consciousnesses'--decided to leave the Social Welfare Agency. It was after one of the bloodiest mission the SWA had to endure. A class started, and ended. Lessons had been learned. It was during a raid on an old warehouse, spawning with rumors about leaked secrets of the SWA obtained by Padania spies. It was planned to be short, simple, and accurate. No prisoners, no survivors. Yet, it ended differently.

Along with the leaked secrets, last evaluation of the coming operation was revealed to the Padanias stationed in the warehouse to retrieve the valuable information. They were given time—long enough to entrench and fortify themselves from the child assassins. As far as the best well laid-out plans, a single leak crippled the entire operation. It was a disaster for both the SWA operatives, and the Padanias.

The work of the SWA was effective, boosted by the quick reflexes of the child assassins and the cunning mind of some of its handlers. As it was originally planned, no prisoners were taken. Yet on the other hand, the SWA learned its lessons about deploying major operations carelessly without second thought. The act nearly crippled the child operatives and the Agency altogether. Rico was shot by her shoulder by another sniper, nearly killing her. If it wasn't because of the wind and Jean's quick action on taking over, both of the pair would have been finished. Henrietta saved Giuseppe from certain death with the cost of herself receiving the full punishment of a claymore mine. Petrushka and Sandro were cornered, shot several time, but were lucky enough to make it out of the extraction without further harm. Petra passed out along the way back to Rome.

Triela on the other hand, received a direct hit from a Barrett M82 .50 Cal sniper rifle by her waist which knocked her down. If it wasn't because of Hillshire's quick action, he would be next. Hillshire watched in agony as she struggled to breathe, lying in her pool of blood. The scene, the sound, the image reminded him of the time where he first met Triela. The churning sound of pants, the gunshot, and Rachelle's last breath still echoed in his mind.

##

The following day, Hillshire sent forward a self-retirement letter to Lorenzo, telling him he's quitting the SWA and vows to keep the word of the agency silent. In another condition, Hillshire also asked for Triela to come leave with him. Lorenzo complied after a series of debates and persuasion made by Hillshire, stating she would turn to another 'Claes' if she was to be left here with a new handler--despite the conditioning she'll take to forget him. And so, their story began...

This is a story between an operative and a handler...

A story of dedication, loyalty, and unconditional love...

A story of struggle and redemption...

A story between a 'single-father', and his beloved 'little princess'...

This is a story about The Detective's Daughter.


	2. Chapter 1: The Leave

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 1: The Leave**

"So...you're leaving?" Claes ask hesitantly to her roommate as she packs her stuff "Is it for long?"

"Well, I can't be sure about that. Maybe..." Triela replies similarly, hesitant and unsure "I don't know how long I'll be leaving. All I know is...Hillshire's with me."

"Well, pray that he won't do something 'strange' to you on your trip!"

Triela giggle and smiles sweetly at her roommate as her hand gestures 'impossible', waving left to right "That wouldn't happen!"

It was Friday, April the 23rd. Hillshire had requested a leave—a permanent one—to Lorenzo. Said reason was a 'hit' of consciousness, and seeing girls as weapon was a violation of human rights. He didn't want to be part of it any longer. Lorenzo opposed this idea on leaving, but dropped the discussion after Hillshire managed to convince him, telling him what will he react if he find his own daughter fighting for the agency. Lorenzo was speechless, yet he couldn't agree less to Hillshire's idea and convictions. He decided to speak to the higher ups in forwarding Hillshire's request to leave.

##

The news spread quickly in the Agency's complex. The girls were getting chattier, and the handlers and staffs were no less different. Everyone knows about Hillshire and his 'little princess'. Everyone knows about their relation resembling a father and a daughter; a fact Hillshire himself can't deny. He admitted to Giuseppe that their relationship resembles such, and so the thought of wishing the best for her never leaves his mind no matter how clueless he was. Giuseppe applaud him, and so is Jean; out of all people. Marco wished he could treat Angie the way Hillshire treats Triela, but that was all too late. Sandro thinks differently, and everyone in the Agency heard about the rumor between him and his operative and what's going on between them.

Alas, the news reached the ears of Triela. She was excited about the leave, yet she was never told the reason why or when will they leave. All she knew so far is that it will be a long leave. Claes had had the full grasp of what was going on through her contacts of staffs around the Agency, and had taken a shock at the news on 'why' Hillshire attempted to reach so far. She knew it is impossible for him to leave—clean for that matter—with Triela by his side. By this time, Padania and the Mafia would've recognized her as one of the notorious child assassins who roam the dark streets of Rome, exploiting their vague activities into the light with much use of violent force. Yet, their activities were never revealed to reality and thus were unknown to the commoners. Claes feared, as the other staff of the SWA does, that in taking Triela with him, all the secrets of the Agency would also be exposed. If so, child assassins would no longer be a secret, and such the Agency would be forced to run-down or closed down.

She fears if such things would happen, the Agency would take _their_ measures and would send one of _them_ to 'settle' the matters with their former employee.

The news of Hillshire and Triela's leave were soon bogged down however. A day later, Petrushka came into Triela's room and told her and the rest of the girls that were there at the time of the outcome to Hillshire's request.

"The Agency had allowed Hillshire to leave. But you're staying." Triela stood up in a jolt "...they can't afford losing an operative, or so Sandro told me."

"W-what!?" she replied "B-but I can't live here and operate alone! I mean..."

Abruptly, Petrushka interrupts "...they're getting you a new handler. Don't worry, you'll get used to him somehow. The Agency had everything sorted out."

Almost as if power had been taken away from her, she slowly loses control of her leg as it guided her down to her bed. There she sat, speechless and stunned at the same time. Henrietta and Rico's response only worsen the twist she feels inside of her stomach.

"This is good news! That means you'll be staying here, right Triela?" Henrietta asks, but receiving no response from her "I mean, you got to stay with us!"

"And think of what the new handler would be like!" Rico suggests, receiving the similar treatment Triela gave to Henrietta "He could be a much nicer guy than Hillshire!"

"Henrietta, Rico, please lay rest to this matter." Claes said hoping to calm Triela from bursting into tears "I think she's tired and needs a little rest. Would you guys mind to leave? It's quite late already, and I think it's time for you guys to head for bed."

As the rest of the girls leave the room, Claes gave Petra a sudden glare. Slowly, she asks. "Why did you have to tell her—tell _us _that?"

"I mean no harm Claes! I-I thought it'll be good news!"

"Well, it isn't. And I think next time you should think over it more carefully, ok?"

"I-I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be..."

Triela's word caused the two girls to turn to their sulking friend as she turns herself to bed; head facing the wall "I should've knew it would end like this..."

"But Triela..."

"Don't be Claes; you too, Petra. Thanks for telling, I appreciate it."

##

That night the moon shines through the window of her room. Claes silently lay still, sleeping soundly in her bunk above her and was fast asleep to notice Triela's weep and cries before she run herself to slumber. The tiredness she developed from crying and the pain that resides inside her lingers still, knowing he'll be leaving without her. Deep inside she knew it was the best for her and the Agency, it was the best for Hillshire to least. The thought of 'how would his leave be harm to the Agency' or 'how would _her_ leave be harm to the Agency' and 'how would it be harm to both of them' never escape her head. No matter, she thought as she continuously weep and drove herself to sleep...

"_Triela..."_

She heard it, but decided not to respond

"_Triela..."_

A dream, perhaps—a very annoying one she thought

"_Triela..."_

Finally, she decided to respond "...go away and leave me...I need some rest..."

"Triela, can you hear me?"

Slowly opening her eyes, she noticed a figure standing close to her; kneeling to be exact. Rubbing her eyes to make clear of what she's seeing, she recognized the figure clearly and almost let out a yelp. Luckily, his hand managed to stop her from doing so.

"H-Hillshire...! W-what are you doing in a girl's room? No, what are you doing in _my_ room??"

"It's a long story." He respond, "For now, we have to leave. Now. You have your things packed?"

As if the news were music--classical--to her ears. For awhile, she felt as if what Petra said was all just a ruse. Everything did come to her way and that she will be leaving, away from this dreary place she called 'home' forever. Until of course, she noticed everything was too good to be true...

"Did the Agency...you know...allowed us to leave? I mean, officially?" She whisper. Hillshire shook her head. "Ooh...then are we leaving...uhh...unofficially?"

"Not to say, but what you said is true. The Agency never did pass my word up to government officials considering my release with you. Lorenzo think it was too risky in nature; too much at risk. I couldn't stand it anymore. All this government conspiracy and lies, the secrecy and the cover-up has fed me enough." He turn to her attention. "I can't withstand seeing you sent to the killing fields any longer."

She smile, returning his word with a gentle hug. "Thank you. I never thought I'm that important to you."

Gently, he wraps his arms around her and returns her hug. "I have lots of things I want to tell you—to talk to you about. I'll tell you when we're out of here."

"Ok."

Using the moon as a source of light, the _fratello_ heads for the exit. Carrying as whatever is necessary, the two didn't bother the need to take what they wanted to carry. Of course, Triela did decide to take one of her _Steiff Bärs_ with her—and she did—to take with her what little memories it had about her life in the Agency. Her first, to be exact which she hold dear of the memory she hold when Hillshire first gave her these teddies.

"Why take the first one? The recent ones are better, right?"

"Yeah, but I personally like this one best. Others were a little too big or held little affection to me. Next time, buy me something beneficial—like a diary."

"...I thought you have one...?" Hillshire ask. Triela sighs.

"Claes found it and read it. Discontinued it since..."

##

Upon reaching the gate, he knew guards would be standing there to watch and prevented their leave. Earlier, Hillshire had decided to bribe the guards on letting them out with his car. To his surprise, the guards were absent. None of them were standing on watch near the parking lot or the main gate. Confusion runs through his mind as he frantically look for any suspicious activity. A trap, perhaps, planned by the Agency as an early warning system. His answer came seconds later

"I've managed to distract the guards for awhile."

The two turn towards a figure behind them; small, but recognizable. Standing in her nightgown, Claes steps forward. Her glasses fixed, and her hair runs loose under the moon. She sighs politely, almost as if she knew it would happen or ended as such that _she_ would get involved and would take some measures herself.

"C-Claes! I knew it! But how did you..."

"Distract the guards? It's easy, Triela. Just run outside looking innocent, pointing out to the window or somewhere that a peeping tom is outside preying on us—preying on _me_. Of course, it was all just a lie to buy you some time."

"Where did you get the idea of...?"

"Jamaica Kincaid's 'Annie John'. She, Annie, the main protagonist of the story masked her attempt on hiding marbles she received from the 'Red Girl' by entering her lawn by crossing the fence, dug her box of tin, hide the pearl, and head back outside to slam the gate so her mother could 'tell' that she had return. It helped masking your real intentions sometime with other distractions."

"Is that also where you get some of the idea of 'lesbianism'...?"

"Not answering that one, and never will. Of course, there are other books I've read that promote such!"

The two girls giggle in delight, before embracing each other silently. It was a short, momentary, last reunion between the two. One that would be held sacred in Triela's mind as her traverse the unknown later in the future, living a life she would never thought she could live in. In an attempt to thank her, Triela started

"Thank you, Claes. I'll never forget you in my days ahead of me..."

"I won't either Triela. I'll always remember you as my best friend here! Please, stay safe."

"I will! I will!" she embraces her tighter, tears slowly runs down both of their cheeks "I'll miss you!"

"No matter how much, please don't ever attempt to write me! The agency would find your position and would surely hunt you down."

"I won't! I won't!"

"Thank you...thank you..." Burying her face to her shoulder, Claes cries silently "I'll miss you too...goodbye, Triela. Thank you for all these years."

"You too Claes, thank you." They part, with Triela going with Hillshire and Claes standing there in the middle of the parking lot

"Thank you Claes. Thank you for assisting us." Hillshire thank in follow

"I'm not doing this for you, Hillshire." She replies "I'm doing this for my friend. Please, keep her safe. I believe you could do that?"

"I will. You could gun me down if I couldn't."

"Well, I never...!" she giggles before continuing "You both must leave now. The guards will be returning soon!"

##

With the gates wide open, and the car sped outside, Triela took one last look on Claes through the backseat. She watched as Claes wave goodbye before turning back to the Agency and return to her dorm. She watched as the vehicle she's in sped past street lights by lights, down up to the main highway and into the silent but lively street of Rome, passing the Vatican and other historic structures. Roma Termini was their last stop with the vehicle.

"We'll use the train from here on out. We'll be leaving from this country, away from Rome and the SWA."

"Why can't we stay in Rome?"

He sighs politely "Triela, if the Agency let me to leave with you, then I'm thinking of taking a job in Rome and live here. But since I—we left the Agency unofficially, then it's the same as me kidnapping a child; they'll surely run after me, like what happened to Arnester and Pia. Well, Arnester was a Padania agent, but he was a _fratello_ nonetheless."

Triela nod in understanding. Wasting little time of what's left in their hand, Triela and Hillshire packed whatever luggage they carry. Hillshire managed to take most of the important things he could find in his car to prevent the Agency from knowing their destination or where would they run off to. Deciding on taking the late-night train comes next

"So where do you intend to go?" She asks of him "I understand we have limited budget to begin with..."

"The Agency had transferred my account to my own bank account. We have plenty to begin with, but will run out if I don't find a job soon. I'm not sure to begin with...I'm thinking Switzerland or Austria, where do you think we should go?"

She pause, placing her index finger on her chin before turning to Hillshire "Why not Germany? Stuttgart, Berlin, or Munich! I've always wanted to go there, and that's your origin, right?"

Hillshire chuckles "It sure is. Why not France? Paris?"

"Nawh, it's impossible. I might speak French, but not that fluent. Besides, our budget might not cover the living expense there."

"You got a point. Germany?"

"_Deutchland über alest! Berlin, Stuttgart, oder Munich!_"

"So it's decided! _Deutchland_ it is!"

##

Taking the last midnight train running for Austria, the both of them had decided on moving to a different train to Germany later in Vienna. Upon leaving, Triela suggested to Hillshire to drop the title of '_fratello'_ between them, and took up a new title; something more to mask their identity and previous life with another one.

"What do you suggest?"

"How about if I call you..._vater_?"

"Father? Are you serious about this?"

Blushing, Triela answers his reply. "Well, unless of course, you call me as your 'daughter' and treat me as you would treat your own child!"

"I've always treated you such, Triela"

"Well, I mean I-I wouldn't want to call you by your name in the crowd and give other some wrong impressions! And well...I...I...oh forget about it! I'll call you with 'Hillshire' and that's enough!" Hillshire's last remark had nearly taken all the confidence she had with her. Her tongue felt as if it froze in spot, unable to say anything anymore. "Well..."

"Alright, let's go then."

They took their seat side by side near the window with a stranger facing them. As the train took the leave out of Roma Termini, Triela, tired from the rush she went through, fell asleep leaning on Hillshire's shoulder. It was soon corrected, with Hillshire allowing her to sleep with her head on his lap which she kindly rejected and was eventually maintained as her original position was. The stranger facing them asks him whether she was his child, noticing the difference between their physical appearances. Politely, he answered him that she is his child and that she bears the face of her mother. Triela was fast asleep to catch all the conversations between them.

The city of Rome slowly fades away in the distance, further and further until it was engulfed in the darkness of the night.


	3. Chapter 2: Settling In

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 2: Settling In **

The sun in the horizon shines brightly like a diamond clean to the cut. The morning rays lit up the small compartment in which the two once feared child assassin and her handler rests for their trip to a new life. Triela woke up in a haze, her mind clouded with various events that had been going on for the past night. First thing she noticed was the difference on how she slept the other night. Previously, she was leaning on Hillshire for comfort. This morning she finds herself comfortable in a small bunk with a pillow and a blanket. The change in location startled her at first, nearly causing her to frantically search where her handler had gone to only to be relieved when she found him standing not far from her position.

She looks up sheepishly, giving a small 'good morning' nod before adjusting herself to sit on the bunk.

"Had a good sleep?" He ask while taking his morning coffee

"I've had better days. Not too shabby though..."

"Not too shabby..." Hillshire chuckles

The new 'names' they've decided were alien to their ears, yet for a particular reason it was something that has been in practice for so long. It has been something they're familiar to, something they knew it will turn 'good'. It's unexplainable to either Triela or Hillshire on why it turned out into something like this. Hillshire never did expect Triela would comply to his request on leaving the SWA with him, yet no complaints were heard from her side. Was it the conditioning she took? Or is it something greater? Life has its own way of finding peace in each different individual.

"So...where were you this morning?" Start Triela, curious on what has happened during her slumber "I mean how I ended up here?"

"We reached Vienna, Austria yesterday. I wanted to wake you, but you're sound asleep and so I decided not to. The stranger earlier advised me to carry you to the next train. So I did; booked a decent hold, a sleeping compartment, and a ticket for free breakfast in the restaurant compartment."

"...and where did you sleep last night?"

"I didn't. I simply took a short nap in the passenger seat."

His calm and collected response gave Triela a big sigh, recognizing how Hillshire sometime tends to overdo things; this is one of the times he did so. He could have wakened me up, she thought. Shouldn't have to carry me to another train, she thought. Get himself a decent sleeping compartment, she thought. And what did he do in the end? He slept in the passenger seat. Shaking her head in disbelief, the 'little princess' decided to comfort him and lend her sleeping compartment while she fetch something to eat. He hesitated, but decided to listen soon after. He told her, that they will be arriving to their destination in approximately three hours.

Berlin, Germany is just a doorstep away...

##

The screeching halt created by the breaks of the train marked the beginning of their new life in Germany. The sounds, the sights, and the voices of German speaking individuals that echoes and surrounds them were all-too familiar for Hillshire, yet ever so new for Triela. Never had she heard many speak the language of her native tongue at once, and never before could she catch and understand the meaning of them in a single whiff. It's all too spontaneous, too bold to change her everyday language from the slippery Italian to the rough German.

Moving to a new country for a living means there are things needed to be filed. The government is required to be notified of the arrival of a new civilian to their country, where they had previously lived their lives in Italy. It would take some time for it to be sorted out, but Hillshire was all too ready to handle it. A small, cozy apartment was all they needed to stay. Dusty, perhaps, but with little work the place would feel like 'home'. It was nothing compared to the dormitory in the Agency, but Triela finds her personal liking to the apartment they managed to acquire. A dry kitchen, window adjacent to a market, two rooms, one bathroom, and a small living room is all she ever asked for. Having her own personal home is something Triela have secretly dreamed of during her days in the SWA.

"I wish I could show this to Claes..." She started after examining the entire room "It's nice and cozy; I think we'll be able to dig in for a living..."

"It's the cheapest I could find, but living in Berlin once I knew how comfortable it feels in these small yet comfortable apartments." Triela stands quietly by the window, listening to Hillshire's say which she returns with a nod. Watching the people buzz around in the streets below is what had sucked her entire attention the whole time. The market, a local fruits, vegetables, and meat market seems to be the neighborhood's favorite as it was seemingly crowded the whole time.

"...Triela...?"

Swiftly pivoting her body to Hillshire's attention, Triela let her pony-tailed hair swivel and wave across the window. Smiling with her hands behind her back, she state with pride:

_"Ich bin ein Berliner." _

_##  
_

Sorting their new home was a start to their new life in Berlin. Hillshire was still unemployed and his previous career as the Italian government's agent must be kept a secret. He can't return to the Europol, there are too many that recognizes him, and far too many who have contacts with the SWA who could easily fetch them whenever they wish. Triela, too, can't stay at the apartment alone all day. She is required to be enrolled into a school.

"Enroll in a school?" Triela ask, puzzled to Hillshire's suggestion "You mean _I_ got to go to school...?"

"Every girl at your age should've been seen in a school zone at this hour; finding one in the street will rouse some unnecessary attention."

"True. But I'm not your _ordinary_ girl, Hillshire, but your once reliable operative. I somehow do feel the need to grab my pistol right now..." She checks her waist and her belt. "...where is it?"

"Are you still an operative at this point?"

Hillshire's last remark closed the debate in an instant. Triela recognized she _was_ an operative, but not anymore. Despite the mechanical body she has, she was now no different than an ordinary girl—with the exception of her super-human strength, of course. Accepting her current fate, Triela let out a sigh.

"...so...your plan...?"

"I have two schools in mind," Hillshire started "There's John F. Kennedy School, an American/German school. The other is Canisius-Kolleg Berlin. Both are Gymnasiums."

"...High schools?" Hillshire gave a nod "...are you sure about this? I mean the fees...?"

"I'm confident." He return "Have a look between them, and tell me which one you'd prefer."

Two pamphlets were handed over; one promoting John F. Kennedy School, the other Canisius-Kolleg. Clearly between them, Canisius-Kolleg would be a much preferable Gymnasium to enroll to. As one of Berlin's most prestigious school, being able to enroll in one would give the student a name to be proud of; something to boast to others.

"I've sent your reports and your average grade to both school; you're qualified for both. Just have to pick which one you prefer..."

She pauses, constantly switching pamphlets between the two "I'll have to think about this...but if it's ok, I'd like to attend Canisius-Kolleg Berlin."

"No objection from me. If possible, we'll head there tomorrow for an interview—yours. Hopefully, by this week you can start."

##

Settling in a new, fresh life has a totally different feel than starting a new day. For once, Hillshire _have_ to worry about how he would earn more to support their small living. Finding a new job wasn't easy, and the fact he was a former SWA agent spells trouble to his future colleagues. Padania agents would be hunting them, and so will SWA agents to silence him or to interrogate him to the most intolerable manner. Triela's true identity would need to be kept secret, as any spoils of it would lead to disaster. The SWA would be actively searching for its missing child assassin around the world and return her to the Agency—dead or alive.

"Since we're starting a new life as a family of a single-virgin-father..."

"Don't mention it. I know I have not been lucky in my love life..."

"...and his daughter," Triela continue completely ignoring Hillshire's remarks "If I may, I want to know your _real_ name. Just to avoid confusion later if asked..."

"Hartmann, Victor."

Clapping both hands together, Triela concludes their conversation "Then it's settled. From today onwards, I'll be Triela Hartmann. Pleased to meet you, papa!"

Returning her cheerful attitude, Hillshire chuckles in delight

Welcome to the new life!


	4. Chapter 3: The Hunters

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 3: The Hunters **

News of Triela and Hillshire's escape ran quickly through the ranks of the SWA. Lorenzo had caught win about this and had predicted it would happen eventually. It did, and it left the Agency with considerable stress and chaos concerning its secrecy and confidentiality. If Padania managed to catch wind of this news, they will stop at nothing to capture the two ex-agents and would create an effective countermeasure against the SWA in future operations. Other than Padanias, the civilians became one prominent threat to the very existence of the Agency. If any member of the society or civilians learned about Triela and Hillshire's previous life, the very existence of the Agency would be threatened by charges of child manipulation and abuse of power. In the end, the Agency would be forced to run to a close and the children under their care would be sent to an orphanage or a boarding school where they will spend the rest of their lives.

If so, SWA has limited time to react. Time is of the essence, and if further attempts to delay the search for the two would lead to their disappearance and ultimately their freedom. Outside the threats that were listed, the Agency could not—_would not_—risk losing one of their child assassins. Knowing they're alive meant that she is retrievable. The problem with Hillshire could be cleared later.

"We have footage of the night." Report a security officer in the board meeting "As you can see, these were images of your wanted man."

"Play it again." Lorenzo demands "I want to see what time they leave this complex—and how. Where are your men when this occurred?"

"We had...our hands full, sir. Last night Claes reported a 'peeping Tom' was within the Agency's complex and had been spying on her since."

"Did you catch the suspect?" ask Ferro who is fully interested and aware of the current unfolding events

"No ma'am, we didn't. We did saw a figure, but was unsure. He or she had fled into the darkness the moment we managed to climb the wall to check on prominent escape routes."

"That is impossible!" Jean states "The wall of the compound is high enough to prevent anyone from climbing into the Agency. Either their smart or you're a fool is debatable, but right now we know who assisted their escape—Claes."

"This morning we have reports of a local theft caught in the act robbing the nearby mini-market. That figure you spot last night might be him instead of this so-called 'peeping Tom'."

"Call Claes in," Lorenzo finally declares "We need to speak to her about this matter. Further use of conditioning on her is advised; get the scientists ready."

Claes was called and interrogated. She denies every bit of statement and claims made by the Agency about her involvement in Triela's so-called 'kidnapping', yet were forced to relieve when the medication was injected to her. Her minds distorted, her vision blurs, and her breathing's heavy. She was unconscious in revealing her involvement in Triela's 'kidnapping', supporting her and Hillshire to escape their previous life in the Agency and hoped for them to live a better, normal life. Soon after, she breaks down in tears while repeatedly saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry'

Claes' conditioning came next. The missing operative meant that another must take its place to fill in the missing gap. Claes was soon to be filling her role as a child assassin. Although she has no handler at the moment, she will be assigned under the eyes of a different handler who will participate in the mission—works as if she was a detachment from a different company to support another.

"We will have to track down and hunt Triela and Hillshire; they could be anywhere in Europe or could possibly reside in Rome or in Italy. For this matter, I'll be assigning all operatives to look for possible clues of their whereabouts here, in Rome. Search Hillshire's apartment, and his records and documents; I want to know where the two of them left off to and find them!"

Silence engulfs the room as Lorenzo takes his breather

"This entire operation will be under the supervision of our two new agents. Falmans!"

"Sir!"

Two men stood up, bearing a distinctive face; twin brothers, Klaus and Vato 'Otto' Falman. Giuseppe immediately recognized they're not Italian natives right from their distinctive accent and their faces. 'Presumably Austrians', Giuseppe thought to himself 'German speaking, definitely. What's in Lorenzo's mind...?' his thoughts were soon interrupted when Lorenzo decided to call in their operatives into the board room.

"Anna Rutherford!"

"Yes?"

A girl about the age of 14-15 enters the room, bearing a distinctive face to Triela and her attitude—only much more obedient. Her golden hair tied down in a pony-tail for comfort, and her aqua eyes gleam as she scans the room before moving to her handler. She wears a uniform originated from an Italian school with a vest unbuttoned with a conspicuous red tie dangling by her neck tidied to perfection; as if a student from a school field trip came to visit. Her pistol, a USP .45 was seen dangling by her side in her holster with its safety off.

"Here is the new _fratello_ that will be joining us today." Lorenzo introduces "This here is Anna Rutherford and her handler, Klaus Falman."

The other Falman soon calls in his operative. Instead of a girl, a boy about the age of 15-16 steps in. His slim figure followed with his nature as calm, collected, and silent young man fools all who sees him as a 'typical' pacifist. His hair was done right, and the glasses fixed to his face suits him well. He wears a sleek long black pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt topped with a black vest. Under his vest, Giuseppe could clearly see pockets which houses magazines from the L96A1 sniper rifle. His side-arm, a black Desert Eagle, was positioned by his left.

"Here is the other that I'd like you all to meet," Lorenzo continues "This is Gewehr Hess and his handler, the younger brother of Klaus Falman, Vato 'Otto' Falman. Both of them will be in charge of this entire mission."

With the meeting dismissed, each veteran member of the SWA and their operatives new they will be facing an old friend which could—possibly—lead to the termination of their target, Hillshire. Mixed feelings and emotions rages across the operatives; some sense the feeling of unjust and unfair in being forced to kill a familiar face—and a friend's well-known 'father' for that matter. Some sees it as a chance to return something, to get revenge for what she did to her back when she's in the SWA. Other sees it as a sport, a game where the best hunters takes it all.

With all operatives in the SWA arsenal unleashed, time is short for them to locate their missing operative

The hunt was on.


	5. Chapter 4: Calling All Operatives

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 4: Calling All Operatives**

It was announced that afternoon the Agency's full-scale search for the Triela and Hillshire _fratello_ team. For the third time in the Agency's history, a 'code red' is announced through the entire Social Welfare Agency and its supporting branch; the first being the attack by Pia and Arnester, the second by Giorgio who was driven away and later killed by Frederick Heckler. Code Red, as it was announced, is a status where the entire SWA from its staff to the field operatives put their entire attention and dedication towards an objective, a mission, or a target—usually issued during the direst time in the SWA where full support and participation from everyone is required.

Claes is no exception.

With the announcement of 'Code Red', Claes was immediately assigned under the wing of Marco with the lack of conditioning. However, she is to follow his order with no questions ask due to her recent involvement in aiding Triela and Hillshire's escape. Questioning or abiding orders would lead to an entire memory wipe on her and implanting a new 'memory' to her; possibly as a permanent test subject. Jean organizes and orders the first search party to be initiated in Rome, Italy, and Sicily to look on the whereabouts of the _fratello_. Operatives operating in the field were soon called to return to the SWA to be reassigned for their upcoming mission.

Within the dark corners of Rome, a series of gunshot echoes throughout the abandoned apartment followed with screams of agony and pain of men before silence engulfs the building. Moments later a girl of Norwegian nationality approximate 15 years of age with eyes as blue as the ocean wearing a woman's trench coat steps up to the battered door. Her weapon, an H&K G3 rifle, shines as the barrel peeks through the door. Recognizing the silence drawn from the room, she gives the 'all clear' to her handler.

"Clean; all threats eliminated"

"Not a challenge for you?"

"Too easy, sir"

"No doubt about generation 3. Best of the best..."

"Thank you, sir" The girl blush

A sudden beep from the radio carried by the man marks the end of the mission...and the start of a new one. The man replies by nodding a few times and answering in short 'yes' and 'ok' before cutting the line. Finally, he turns to his operative.

"Sophia, let's go. We have another job to do—one that would surely challenge you."

"What is it?"

"We're assigned to hunt a run-away _fratello. _I assume you recognize Triela and Hillshire?"

A half-moon forms on Sophia's lips "It'll be my pleasure..."

##

In a different side of Rome, another group of _fratello_ had just finished mopping an entire bar and captured their target—a Padania supporter—and shed him into the light. The girl, using an H&K G36C rifle held gun-point at the man before he managed to blurt it all out; he was rewarded with a can of whoop-ass on his face by the girl which literally knocked him unconscious. She spits unconsciously to the side, ending the mission altogether.

"That's a wrap for this mission—and we seem to have been called for another one..." muttered muffin's handler as he checks his surrounding before answering the call. Leisurely taking his time, he answers the call "Matthew here, what's up?"

She kept herself silent, cautiously watching her surroundings for sudden movements as her handler answers the call and cuts the line the minute after he heard the first few sentences

"I don't believe this shit..." He curses in his deepest Australian accent of distress and complaints

"What? What's wrong?" his operative response in curiosity

He turns to his operative "We've been called to hunt a fratello-gone-missing—Triela and Hillshire!"

"What the hell? Triela...?"

"Yeah," he sighs in disbelief "They appear to have gone AWOL. I don't bloody believe it myself, kid."

Muffin kept herself silent as she ponders through the last words her handler. It didn't take long for her to realize what's she'll be up against next "...so we're supposed to get em'?"

"I don't like the sound of that, but yeah...you are correct."

Hissing in disgust Muffin replies, "Traitorous scumbags..."

"Best be prepared, kid; they're not your usual thugs!"

"Don't worry, I know Triela like the back of my hand..."

Not far from their location, a second _fratello_ in support of the mission received the message. Boarding their pickup SUV, the man, holstering his Glock 39 answers the call as Muffin and her handler enters the vehicle.

"Brandon Letuthio speaking," he answers "What? Alright, we'll be back in no time."

"You received the call, too?"

"I did, Matt. Seems like we'll be facing one of us..." he turns to his operative "Mina! Best get you prepared for the upcoming mission."

The girl, about 7 years of age wielding an H&K MP7 submachine gun smiles happily at the sight of her handler's confidence that befell upon her. The short moment of bliss was soon interrupted when the back-door of the SUV opens and followed with chatter by a third _fratello_ team.

"Anica, I suggest you get a scope to refine your shots when paired with your right eye; the previous one is good, but not perfect."

"Ok." She replies bluntly "Just give me a rifle, one round, and point me at the bad-guys."

"Can cyborg operatives argue? At least give a comment...?" their short-lived 'argument' came to an end at the sight of the other two _fratello _team. Andrew Santiago, a man bearing the age of 27, hops into the SUV along with his operative Anica. Realizing the silence that befell around them, Andrew decided to light up the situation a little by conversing with the other handlers "So...did you guys received the message I relayed?"

"We did." Brandon reply, "Quite a shock facing one of our own—why would Hillshire and Triela..."

"Turn tails and leave the SWA?" Matt cuts "Might be personal reasons; Hillshire might have something on his sleeve..."

"Or he could receive that knock on his head—a hit of consciousness. Who knows? Let's evaluate once we're briefed for this mission."

##

Outside of Rome, the echo of a World War II relic erupts followed with other more recognizable firearms before it was concluded with the earlier echo. The silent scream of the men were unheard in the middle of the forest as it dies down. From behind the concrete wall, a boy bearing the age of 16-17 years of age wearing a distinctive field grey trench coat and boots worn by the Bundeswehr steps out and checks his work. His aqua blue eyes scan the old cottage used by the now-deceased hit-met hired by the Italian Mafia considering their constantly disrupted operations. The wind that ruffles his messy brown hair indicates the silence inside and outside the cottage. His StG 44 Assault Rifle gleams as the sun sank in the distance.

"All clear..." he said conclusively "I guess that's the end of this mission..."

The moment he turns his back a fourth hit-man, lucky to survive the kill stood up momentarily. Failing to react quickly, the boy was pushed aside by a girl who seems to be in her early teens armed with an FN F2000 packed with a grenade launcher. The moment the girl shows up, the hit-man knew this one could be a little more...lethal considering her ready trigger finger is on the grenade launcher, not on the main weapon. The explosion rattled the cottage, shattering the man to unknown number of bits as the HE shell took a direct hit towards the unfortunate hit-man. The birds were shaken by the bang and flew away in a panic. The squirrels ran to their hide-outs, and the woodpecker stops pecking for a second before continuing. The girl, however, smiles in delight after committing the recent act of destruction

"...I didn't owe you a life debt, did I...?" the boy asks

"Not one, Frederick! Of course, you owe me a treat!"

"Guess I'm treating you a pie from the SWA's cafeteria after this Rebecca; thanks though!"

"A pie...?" The girl replies "How about cake?"

"Alright that's fine. Whatever suits you, I owe you." He stands up, dusts himself, checks his rifle, and fixes himself before it abruptly ended by the radio attached to his belt

"Frederick here," he answers, followed with a late-expression of shock "What? How? No, Hillshire is not...wait, what? Triela wouldn't...no that's not true...no she wouldn't...hey! Alright, I understand...yeah, ok...yeah, we'll head there immediately."

"What is it?"

Biting his thumbnail as a sign, Rebecca expects the unpleasant "Your handler called, and I'm ordered to return to the SWA complex so we could be assigned to hunt for Triela and Hillshire _fratello_ team. I don't know what they up to, but I don't like it...stupid girl...now you get yourself into trouble..."

"Triela? You mean..."

"Yeah, it's her." Rebecca's last sentence was cut short by Frederick's quick reply as they return to their SUV.

Walking down the path, Rebecca notice the uneasy feeling she sees in Frederick after hearing the last order from the radio. She heard the news and rumors about them; it's not news in the Agency. Yet, somewhere down the path she felt a burst of change inside of him as if a resolve and a conclusion is made in the second. She never bothered to ask because sooner or later, it will be revealed when they gather with the rest of the operatives.

##

The call of the SWA spreads far and wide across Italy and beyond to its operatives. As one _fratello_ team is contacted, another team had recently finished mopping an underground business run by the Italian Mafia with great efficiency. The busy streets of Rome cloaked the screams and the gunshots in the underground tavern where the action took place, taking the lives of more than 8 members of the Italian Mafia. Standing upon the bodies of its victim with eyes on full alert and adrenaline running high, a girl not older than 16 was bloodied by the intensity of the combat. She constantly took heavy breaths in between her search for possible threats. The crescent-shaped earring gleamed in the darkness of the tavern as it drips red of blood, while both of her hands were occupied by two weapons of her choice; KA-Bar combat knife to her left, and a USP Compact 9mm to her right. Both were brutally used on the last remaining members as melee weapons. The man who watches over her sighs silently, placing his hand on his face as a sign

The girl turns her attention to the man who's at his late 20s. She sighs for a moment before replying, "Stop worrying, I'm just getting the job done Clay..."

"Well, it does get the job done but..." the beep created by his satellite phone stops him for a moment "Hold a sec,"

"Clayland here," the man answers

The call, like any other who heard the news, was responded by nods and yeses and 'uh-huh' followed with an OK. It flows with the same order: return to the SWA headquarters for a briefing of a next assignment considering Hillshire and Triela _fratello_ team's escape. A 'Code Red' is announced at the end of the message, signaling the worst yet to come of this coming assignment.

"We're returning to SWA headquarters; we have a new job to do considering Hillshire and Triela—and I assume it won't be pretty!"

Not far from their position, an SUV with a support team stands-by before receiving the call to return. The van's engine hums mildly as they await the return of Clayland and Laine _fratello_ team. The girl and her handler who were sitting at the back of the van were alert and ready. Armed with an Israeli made UZI Submachine Gun, the girl, not older than 11 years old waits patiently for her handler's 'go-code'. Her shoulder length brown hair ruffles through her clothes as she constantly switch her sitting positions with her weapon ready at hand. Finally, the door of the van bursts open.

"About time you guys return!" The man accompanying the girl said, "We were supposed to return to the headquarters 5 minutes ago!"

"Sorry for the wait; we got a little caught up,"

"...Laine what happened to you?" the girl ask "Are you ok?"

"Don't worry Savyna, it's just some stain; I'm unharmed."

"That's good to hear..." Savyna reply with a smile

"Let's get moving now," said Clayland as he takes his seat "We can't keep the Agency waiting!"

##

The SWA headquarters were beginning to be crowded after the return of the field operatives. People from various ages, nationalities, and abilities gather in one location discussing the same matter that needs immediate attention. The whole staff members worked day and night to rally all field operatives who were in active duty, and their work pays off. Within the walls of the SWA headquarters, all staff members of the SWA were tense, and yet some were eager. The veteran members—Giuseppe, Jean, Marco, and Alessandro—were seated closest to Lorenzo and the higher staffs. Before them, all handlers of the SWA agency were summoned and seated at their designated position.

"What's going on?" said one of them, "Rachel and I were at the range testing our Garand—so could someone fill me in?"

"It appears Hillshire and Triela escaped the SWA—we're here to hunt them down." Matt said as he took his seat

"...or they could be in their little 'honeymoon' in Sicily! We're here to 'entertain' them via video-phone!"

"Antonio, please spare us those jokes of yours..."

"Alright, alright, I'll spare em' ok? Why is it always you, Wesley, who comes up to stop me...?"

"Alright, that's enough!" the word of Lorenzo alerts the entire members "This is a serious matter, so I want your full attention. Jean, fill us in."

The elder Cloche stood up, tidies his files, and steps up to the LCD projector displaying the SWA insignia. As part of the Italian Intelligence Agency, it bears a resemblance to its counterpart with the addition of the Agency's own motto revolving around the insignia itself. With the control at his hand, Jean starts the conference with a click of the button, changing the picture to the image of Hillshire and Triela, now considered as a 'target' by the SWA agency.

It was a moment of silence for everyone for the exception of Jean Cloche; no questions asked and no objections made. All of them listen to what he has to say about the upcoming mission. Jean explain and states clearly how it all began, how Hillshire decided to bail out of the Agency with Triela with him, how Claes was involved in assisting their escape, and how they made their escape. Up to this point, the Agency has no clue about their whereabouts—this is where the operatives would come to play their part.

Jean's explanation about the mission was brief, and simple. Each _fratello_ team would be paired up with another, forming a minimum of 2-3 men team with their respective operatives. Each would be sent across Rome and Italy to track down the whereabouts of Hillshire and Triela. All agents must immediately report once they find something related to the whereabouts to Triela and Hillshire's current location.

"For this mission," Jean continues "I've managed to call other trusted individuals; Wendy Proietti and Ehud Barrohk, you may enter the room."

"H-how did...?"

"The Agency is willing to pay me handsomely for participating in this mission, Giuseppe. While the other guy here..."

"I just happen to be in town!" said Ehud shrugging "The call just came in, and since it is from the SWA, I'll hang out a bit. No harm done, eh?"

Outside the board room, the operatives had similar reaction to the coming operatives.

##

"Luke! What are you doing here?"

"I'm just visiting Rome, Claes—just happen to be around to be exact. How are you? How's Liora?"

Aside the arrival of the handlers, the child assassins were ecstatic with the arrival of their brethrens abroad. For once they were together in the dormitory to meet everyone they never knew of. The veteran members of the SWA—Henrietta, especially, were a little more jumpy than usual after she interacted with the others she never knew or recognized of. She saw a whole new life in the Agency, a whole new color the place. The child assassins were, as Claes said, 'Colors of the Agency'.

Claes, especially, was ecstatic when Luke came up to him once again after some time away in Israel somewhere in a place called 'Childville'. But that doesn't matter, all she cares now is Luke's very present close to her. As if it was a chapter ripped from one of her romance novels; something that she'd gladly extend to the limit where Luke himself wouldn't dare walk into.

"So you're Nero?" Ask Frederick followed with the other operatives, curious of this junior operative from America "What brings you here?"

"Uuuh...here?" he replies "Well, it's all about money and all, and this mission, and the participation and how it will benefit me...politicians...I never understand them..."

"Uuuh...ok..."

"...anymore questions...?"

"I'll ask when we have time..." Frederick sighs, "For now, we're called to the conference room for briefing of this mission—I doubt it will be peaceful..."

"Oh, don't doubt it. Politics and politicians...they always have something up their sleeves..."

The operatives were gathered before entering the conference room in an orderly manner. Each of them stands behind their respective handlers; each of them bears different faces and personal feelings considering the outcome of the coming mission. What they all have in common is how they think: it's their job. Out of everyone who stands behind their handlers, only Frederick stood in the sidelines leaning to the wall. He lost his handler back during his early days as an SWA operative during the 2nd Code Red warning. The minimal conditioning his handler gave enables him to think through his own will and conscience while displaying extreme loyalty to anyone he trusts—a zeal. The Agency sees no need to replace his handler, and so Frederick works as an attachment to another _fratello_ team. His flexibility to adapt to the ways of the handler and his loyalty eases control over him.

"Frederick, I assume you know what's going on currently?" ask Lorenzo as Frederick was called forward upon the mass

"Yes sir."

"You do know that we heard rumors considering the... 'relation' with Triela...is that true?"

"Yes sir that is correct." Frederick answers before he continues "I know it's not old news, sir. I doubt it's a secret anymore."

"And it isn't!" interrupts Jean "Be aware that we have our eyes on you, infernal prototype!"

The other handlers and operatives turn their attention to Frederick, waiting for his response. Frederick recognized the intense disfavor of him by Jean since his first service in the SWA. Out of all the handlers and staffs of the SWA, Jean was the only one who disapproves the idea of using a male operative. The others, out of pity to the once-battered Hans approve it; and so Frederick was born.

During one of Frederick's early missions in which he ended up incapacitated for weeks, the Agency had the chance to field tested its first-ever Generation 2 prototype skeletal body; the basis of Generation 2 mechanical body. However, Frederick's disappearance led to the Agency's absence of the prototype mechanical body which forced them to create a new one based on the design—thus far, Petrushka was born. Frederick earned the nick 'prototype' by Jean after his return, knowing full-well he hosts the missing Generation 2 prototype mechanical body.

"Why is it always me...?" he sighs, "You don't have to put your suspicions of me defecting, Jean."

"Oh? Why so?"

Taking a deep breath, he sighs heavily "The Agency saved my life and brought me a new one. If the Agency wasn't there that day _I _wouldn't be standing here talking to all of you. The Agency saved me, and I owe them a life debt. My loyalty stands with the Agency."

He pauses for a moment, biting his lips before proceeding "If one of the orders given is to exterminate Hillshire or...Triela..." he hesitates, but continues anyway "...then I shall carry it to the end; no questions asked and no complaints expressed."

"We applaud your zeal towards the Agency, Frederick," Lorenzo commented "We trust you in your judgment; be warn! We will not leave our eyes off you."

"I can assure that, sir."

##

The meeting was dismissed moments later after all operatives were informed of what tasks befell them. Rachel was nervous and twitchy, yet kept herself together most of the time and is actually one of the more social able operative considered by the rest of the girls. She constantly joke about being 'flightless' by remembering some of the time during 'flight school' which caused a series of unfortunate events—for the aviation company. Henrietta nervously switch views between Giuseppe and Lorenzo, while Rico stares at the ceiling accompanied by Beatrice and Anica who stood beside her silently with no words expressed. Luke exchange glances with Claes almost the entire time, nearly causing both of them to miss some important points that needs to be considered, while Nero shows a sign of distrust and dislike towards the crowd he's in and the topics discussed—politics. Muffin listens carefully and intently while stuffing her small jaw with chocolate chip muffin (cake) she received from her handler earlier before switching to chips moments later—which didn't help. The crumbs were all over where she's standing and on her clothes and cheeks, and Antonio did left a remark about 'Muffin eating muffin' and 'Muffin eating Chips'. Savyna and Petrushka were quietly whispering and snickering with each other as they were briefed, yet managed to catch all the details for the mission. Laine, however, constantly rolls her eyes to the left and to the right signifying the boredom yet the necessity it is for her to listen; of course, to keep her away from boredom she can't keep her hands still and constantly flicks Petrushka's earring to her annoyance. Adrie was silent, and so is Beatrice which didn't help Mina who wanted a friendly conversation to ease the tension.

Finally, there was Sophia. Her constant taunt and mocks towards those beneath her class is most recognizable, yet it happens so often others slowly decided to ignore it. They do, however, show a moderate dislike towards her and her arrogance as SWA's Generation 3 cyborg. Frederick in particular, managed to create an enemy at the start

"...An outdated prototype best stayed at the museum, don't you think Frederick?" taunt Sophia as he leaves the conference room "I assume you recognize who I am talking about...?"

"Do consider this, Sophia," he replies "I have more kills than you, and considering experience—you're just a newbie. Oh, I almost forgot; I'm older than you, so you best respect your senior."

The last remark by Frederick runs through her veins like poison, boiling through her blood and quickly infuriates her. Her finger twitches with eagerness to rip this very boy instantly with her bare hands or shoot him with her pistol right away. She resisted, as doing so would create more problems—she's wise enough to think things through yet it followed with a reply,

"I swear, Frederick, that one day," she states in an uncontrollable temper "One day I'll have the chance to gun you down you outdated piece if shit! I'll have the chance to spill your guts out on the streets and watch you bleed!"

"Is that so? Before that happens, I'll make sure I write your name in my 7.92x33mm Kurz round—what was it again? Sophia, is it?"

With that said, Sophia stormed out of the conference room followed by Frederick who soon chuckles in delight over his small victory over a Generation 3 cyborg. The _fratellos_ unleashed, the search was on. Three teams were to search Rome, while two teams will be sent to Sicily to look for any clues and whereabouts. It will be one of the longest day and longest mission ever issued by the SWA, and the longest and the hardest to be endured by the handlers and operatives.

"What do you think?" Said Triela as she twirls in her new school uniform "It's a pity I can't enroll in Canisius-Kolleg...I knew you don't have the fund to cover."

"I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be," she chuckles as she turn again and again in front of the mirror and Hillshire "JFK School doesn't sound too bad, right?"

Hillshire let out a small chuckle, notifying his relief and for the good start they're currently in. This morning Hillshire bought an old bar down near the Reichstag. He decided to start a small business out in Berlin to earn money along the way and hopefully fund Triela up to college and university. On the other hand, Triela's 'meet and greet went well. She was received well by the teachers and is praised to be a brilliant girl, notified by her 'grades' from the SWA and her entrance exams. They see great potential within her—she's a smart girl, and that's a fact Hillshire can't deny.

Little did Hillshire and Triela know how the gap between them and the SWA slowly shrinks towards the inevitable reunion their old friends.

**Author's Note:**

The name of the other fratellos outside the GSG original were not by me. They respectfully belong to their respective creators who contributed to the creation of this story and to further chapter of this story. Events portrayed according to which OC is in will be controlled by the respective authors, not me. Many thanks for the contribution to Whatface, West Nile, Probit Return, rusty-spring, ElfenMagix, Triela, and Colonel Marksman. Without you, this chapter and further won't be happening! Thank you!

Details about the OCs involved can be found here: gunslinger-girl./original-characters-showcase-f17/

That is all!

-Panzer IV


	6. Chapter 5: Distance ::Part I::

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 5: Distance (Part I)**

"I'm home!"

A few months had passed since their break from the Agency. It was a difficult start, but as of now everything is going smoothly. Triela managed to blend in with the rest of the students, applied what she had learned in the SWA to her subjects she have in school, and of course, new friends. They were different than what she knew within the Agency. They're free—controlled, but free. As if there were no restraints latched to them, no form of drugs or medication or brainwashing applied to them. They were, as Triela learned, a symbol of what life is. She constantly remembers her days in the Agency as one of the operatives working for the Italian government and their 'reason'. Yet here she is, living amongst those who she 'protected' back in her old days.

Her first day in school wasn't as smooth as she thinks it would be. Most of her new friends noticed the smell of gunpowder around her and some of her scars she has. Her way of speaking, how she interacts, and how she debated is clearly not of 'another school'. There are those around her who did stalk her all the way home to uncover who she really is, but none of them succeeded. As far as they know, every after-school at 3 she takes the U-Bahn down to the Reichstag and visits her father's restaurant and bar—the 'Der Wiener und Bier'; gratitude to Triela who came with the name. There she works to 6, taking orders from customers before returning to her given homework. At 7, she takes the U-Bahn and returns to her apartment where she end her days with dinner—usually something Hillshire had packed in his restaurant—and a good long bath before she head for bed.

"Welcome home, Triela."

"It's unusual for you to be home early..."

"It's Friday, the restaurant close at six. Where were you this evening?"

"Out with Clara, Maria, and Roland to the _Deutsches Historisches Museum_; I have history homework to contend with today about the Third Reich and all..."

"Is Roland a new friend of yours?"

"Yeah; well, he's not what you think. He's this history geek; hell, you could ask him almost anything about history and he won't stop jabbering until you say 'halt'! How's your day?"

Hillshire on the other hand works double duty as a father and a restaurant manager. In the morning at six he normally went into Triela's room to wake her from her slumber if ever she's still in bed before heading to the kitchen and prepare lunch for her as she showers and get ready. Kissing her goodbye in the forehead and telling her to be careful, he watches her leave through the door—daily—before heading for the showers. Later he'd prepare a cup of coffee and takes a read at either _Berliner Zeitung_ or _Neues Deutschland_ whichever gets to his door first. Later at 7, he takes the other newspaper and walk to the U-Bahn—the subway—to the Reichstag. There, he proceeds to sort his small business and check the number of staffs who checked in; cook, dishwasher, waiter...everyone. The shift starts at 10AM sharp, opening as a restaurant where it is decently crowded by Berliners at lunch hour.  
About 3PM, the Bar is accessible and usually at this hour, Triela would come by and help Hillshire's little business—with small breaks spared for her homework. There she'll work up to 6 before returning to the apartment. Hillshire would pack Triela things the cook experimented on. Hillshire would ask for a feedback later, where he could either put up the recipe or not. By 9.30PM, the restaurant draws to a close as some of the last known faces—mostly politicians—pay their bills and went home. Drunken customers were usually bonuses and they can get a little rowdy; but Hillshire has ways to send them home either way.  
By 10, he was back at the apartment; tired, weary, but happy either way for living the 'good life' away from the government assassination business in his old days. He'd check into Triela's room once to see if she's asleep—or not—before taking his shower and finish whatever's left unfinished before heading for bed. On Fridays, he has his days off.

It has been three months since they left the Agency, three months of running, and a month late for Triela's check-up.

"...Triela, are you ok? Feeling sick or anything...?" Hillshire ask

"Me?" reply Triela "...why do you ask? I'm feeling better than ever..."

Hillshire starts taking a few sheets of tissue paper and starts pinching Triela's nose despite her resistance against it

"W-what is that for!?"

"You're having nosebleeds. Can't you feel it?"

Triela didn't realize—never did felt it. The blood runs down from her nostrils like a fountain with little stop. She too, was surprised on what she got into. She had nosebleeds before in the Agency, and she knew she bleeds during her period. But this is different. As the blood runs down Triela feels as if her world was turning upside down as a streak of pain hits her all across her body. Not too sudden, but slowly it tingles her as she loses balance. Guided by Hillshire, Triela is seated at the sofa before he attempts to converse with her.

"You're feeling dizzy?"

"I'm fine..." she reply weakly. "Maybe I'm just too tired...it's not something to stress about."

"But you're..."

"I said I'm fine!" she reply pushing him away

There was a brief moment of silence

"...I'm sorry." She start as an attempt to break the silence

"...It's my fault, don't think about it. Get some rest; I'll cook something for dinner."

"..._You_ cook?"

"...Or order something; either way its fine."

##

By the time the clock struck 6 in the next morning, the nosebleed continues to rush and soon they knew this is something considered abnormal. What supposed to take 5-10 minutes took up the whole day and still running. Since yesterday, her nose constantly spews blood with no rest. Hillshire fears the worse.  
A month had passed since Triela's last routine check up with Dr. Bianchi and her medical team. At this time, Triela and the rest of the operatives would most likely be spending their next life in a new mechanical body developed by the Social Engineering Division, a branch of the SWA which were 'said' to develop prosthetics for those who needs a replacement or implant such as for sight, hearing, and even legs and arms enabling the limp to rise and the blind to see. Miracle is such a short notice away in Rome's Hospitals and those willing to pay in large sums. However, outside their 'business', they secretly develop prosthetics for its main branch to support the child assassin project; as of this point, no other country heard a whiff of it.

The check-ups by Dr. Bianchi are for the same purposes: keep the girls in check _and_ alive

The operatives are growing; like it or not, the Agency knew these kids were growing up as adults as they were supposed to be. Their mechanical prosthetics might have prevented their growth physically in regards of their size, but not mentally and internally. The growth of mentality of the operatives can be suppressed by the use of conditioning drugs; despite the protest of some of the handlers. However, internally, their supporting organs were—as they were—flesh. They grow, they feed on nutrition, and they expand through the body. The only difference was the bones and muscles—the rest was all human.

Hillshire understood that once he ask and saw Triela considering 'breathing problems'. She mentioned having them 'more often than enough to freak her out'. For once, Hillshire saw of what they did was a mistake; a mistake that can't be undone.

"Let's take you to the hospital."

"B-but Hillshire! Then the truth about me will..."

"...better to lose it than having to lose you."

##

The three month time-span from Hillshire's 'kidnapping' left little clue to the already exhausted operatives. Since then, they were deployed on field tirelessly from night to day searching for any hints, clues, or whereabouts of the operatives. They search everywhere high and low—even to Sicily and to the resident of Mario, an ex-mafia once protected by Hillshire and Triela. No clues have been extracted from the search.  
Within the SWA, staffs and operatives were sent to look on documents by documents about Hillshire. They were substituted everyday with a different operative and handler to look into the documents. It is a gruesome routine, pushing the limits of all cyborg operatives to meet the demands of the Agency as time ticks away towards the complete disappearance of Hillshire and Triela.

"Goddamn books and papers...I'm part of this for the investigation, _not_ the bookkeeping!" Frederick complains as he reads through the 10th document he have for the day "Why do I have to go through reading all this crap? I doubt we can find any clues here..."

"Best not to complain Freddie," Rachel replies as she finishes her 5th book "Remember, the Agency's very existence depends on it!"

"Still..." he pause for a moment, raise his head, and turn his attention to the girl accompanying him "... since when did the nick 'Freddie' is being used?"

"Well...since now, I guess?"

"I don't approve it..."

"I thought you like cute nick names."

Frederick twitches "Who gave you that idea in the first place?"

"Claes; well, she said you do...but there's always this strange glint with her though..."

He slaps his forehead in response and said, "She's been reading too many books and watching too many mushy romance in the net; maybe this time she happened to watch Teletubies out of her boredom and ends up liking it!"

He chuckles as he returns to the documents. Rachel laughs silently

The door soon slams open and in walks an Israeli boy bearing his gears. Tensions rise momentarily as he walk into the room with an expression as dark as the sky during the dark years of Europe. A chair is pulled, and soon he stumbles on purposely and sighs. Minutes later a girl wearing a familiar summer dress with eyes beaming behind her spectacles rushes into the room with a face filled with a variety of emotions ranging from regret to exhaustion; not to mention the white fur-ball she cradles. The boy shyly turns his eyes away from the girl as she moves closer to him

"Luke, I-I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry Claes; don't mention it," the boy replies in a monotone "Accidents happen..."

"But...I should've restrained myself—I should've known! I should've not attempted it..." The girl looks down with a feeling of guilt as her fingers glides above her lips

"Well...it was...kind of sudden..."

"Marco doesn't seem pleased...I don't know about Ehud though..."

"Canceled at the last moment; truth be told, I am rather clueless with such things."

The girl in her summer dress smiles gently as she stood before him who's slumping on his chair. She kneels down and let the little feline go before resting her hands on his face. He sheepishly tries to ignore it yet is unable to comprehend against the feeling and the experience he's bombarded with by this very girl whom he cared for. Turning his attention to her, he stares deeply into her eyes as his left hand slowly moves behind her neck as they drew closer and closer...

"...If you guys have time for that, get a room; Hillshire's room's empty!"

The couple shot away in a moment's notice towards the figure sitting in the far end of the room with a girl accompanied with piles and piles of documents. The girl called out, "F-Frederick!"

Rachel rolls her eyes to the left. "You just have to say it at the best moment huh, Frederick?"

"Well...yeah." Frederick turns his attention to his partner-in-crime. "It's not your age yet to see those things."

"How old do you think I am??"

"Twelve,"

"I'm thirteen!! Thir_**teen**_!!"

Meanwhile, the Israeli stood up and run towards the confused German and chase him with his pistol at hand. The German noticed and ran from his position to avoid his rage

"H-hey! No running in the office! Hey!" He dodges an attempt by the Israeli to knock him to the floor "Hey, I just did you a favor!"

The Israeli chuckles yet continues his chase

##

The Ehud/Luke and Marco/Claes _fratello_ team returned empty handed with little incidents. They were assigned to search for any clues around Piazza di Spagna and Vatican; they were also sent to Mario and Mimi in order to find any clues or whereabouts on where Hillshire is hiding. They return empty handed, exhausted, and frustrated. Three months of search that bears nothing significant that slowly deteriorates the patience and mentality of some handlers and operatives as well as the staff of the SWA. It was a different case for certain _fratello_ teams. Rico and Nero were sent up to the borders of Italy and were working side by side with the local policemen to find any clues or hints about them. Laine, Petrushka, Anica, Beatrice, and their handlers were paired together and were sent abroad until they received the call to return, but most member of the team is not wishing for it. Reasons involve their mission in Sicily to find the whereabouts of the missing; it was almost like a vacation for both the handler _and_ the operatives.

Meanwhile Adrianna, Henrietta, and Rebecca were called out outside of Rome yet still in the vicinity. They serve the same task as the rest who were on field duty. Others like Gewehr, Anna, Sophia, Mina, Savyna, and Muffin were closely on watch around the airports and train station. Gewehr and Savyna were on watch around bus stations and other means of transportations, Sophia and Anna within the corners of Rome eliminating Five Republics and Mafia alike while extracting possible informations, and Mina and Muffin around the Roma Termini. It was one of the times where the SWA were desperate for the slightest bit of information, and a time where the Five Republics were quickly within Rome were quickly cleansed and flushed out of its existence in an effort to locate Hillshire and Triela. It was then during the return of Matthew/Muffin and Brandon/Mina _fratello_ team returned with significant information that quickly changed the swinging events.

"Lorenzo speaking," said the old man answering his call

"_G'day sir, Matthew speaking; we just found Hillshire's car. I think the SWA will find this quite informative."_

"What's taking so long?"

"_With respect sir,"_ reply Brandon cutting in _"There's more than one car here with the same color and type; we found this in workshop after managing to locate where the car was towed after it was abandoned." _

"Is it confirmed?"

"_We assume so; we're confident about it."_

It covers Lorenzo's worse fear. The abandoned car meant Hillshire and Triela managed to slip out of Rome and were already outside of Rome. Resting his head on his hand, Lorenzo decides his next move

"Call all the handlers and operatives sent outside back here; we need to discuss for our next move." He pauses for a moment "...and call Frederick; I'd like to ask him a few 'what if' questions..."

"Sir, if I may..."

"What is it?"

Urgent or not, Bianchi is willing to listen and accept any form of assistance offered—even to those least expected. The man in the white lab coat and his team believed this could be a 'step-up' to their on-going investigation. The man in the lead speaks up and starts,

"It has been three months since Triela and Hillshire left; we believe its past her time for her routine check-up and maintenance. Hillshire would be running to a hospital right about now asking for help."

"He's not that stupid to..."

"Oh, but he will!" interrupts Dr. Bianchi "He knew we developed the mechanical body with the assistance of other doctors from various countries and nations; the brightest mind of the world! It was the Lebensborn Projekt as the Germans calls it. The project was canceled after the mechanical body is said to fail. It was destroyed after the first test involved the death of our first subject."

He pause for a moment

"But that wasn't the case. It went missing—to our hands under the orders of the Italian Government."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Call up our contacts in hospitals across Europe. Some of the doctors might openly 'receive' them."

Lorenzo turns to his secretary and soon the Agency had attempted to call over a thousand hospitals all across Europe to find the two. The gap between them and the Hillshire/Triela _fratello_ team were slowly closing as call after call were answered by doctors across Italy, then Sicily, and soon to doctors all across Europe.

##

Within the walls of the white structure, Hillshire nervously waits the call as he supports Triela's head on his lap. She has been resting since they arrive, tired and exhausted after her day in school and the blood loss she's having. The major loss of blood could leads to anemia which could threaten the very life of Triela. It was painfully long, and it was about an hour later that he was called in. He wakes Triela and carried her into the room where the doctor awaits as her body somehow stops functioning as it supposed to.

"I guess this is the end of the line..." he sighs,

The doctor was an old man with an age possibly nearing his late seventies. More like a professor than a doctor, the old man seated Hillshire and told him to rest Triela in the examination bed where he'll be checking her conditions in a moment. Hillshire soon expresses his concerns and about the nosebleed which still runs up to the very hour. Minutes later, the phone rang...

"Excuse me for a moment," the doctor said politely as he picks up the phone, "We'll take her to the X-ray; I believe it has something to do with her rib cage punching through her internal organs. Did she ever end up in a fight?"

"Well, she never told me anything specific," Hillshire reply that was soon interrupted by the doctor's nods and yes across the phone line, taking small glimpses at the worried detective and glimpses at his patients. He closes the phone minutes later and returns to the man

"So, as I was saying we'll..."

"Is there any other way to investigate this...?"

Puzzled, the doctor answers, "If it involves the lack of attention to the patient and the possibility of a miss treatment... then yes"

Triela was soon carried to the X-ray room to enable the doctors to capture the image of what has been going on inside. She does so without any resistance, and actually told the old man that she was involved in a fight with a boy in the school the day before. She ends up as the winner whiles the boy in the health center. As she stood in front of the machine, all she could do at the point was to sigh and to accept whatever's coming at them.

Hillshire fidgets uncontrollably waiting for the return of both the doctor and his 'daughter'. He knew deep down it was the end of the line, yet he never wished it. It was too soon, too quick! He just started a new life—an honest life just as Mario did turn his back away from the Mafia. Now he was hunted down similarly like Mario during his days in service of the Agency; only this time, it received full authorization and attention by the very organization he once work with. Similarly, all he could think of at the point is how to accept whatever's thrown at them.

Both Triela and the doctor returned minutes later. Triela returns to the examination table to rest her head as tears roll down her eyes signifying her regret. She felt as if she was the cause of the trouble; the main source. The results of the X-ray meant the reveal of her true identity she cast away as a member of the SWA and leads to their very capture and—possibly—death to Hillshire who took her with him. Her hands rests in her eyes as she sobs while Hillshire rests his head down waiting for the puzzled and surprised doctor to finish his look on Triela's mechanical skeleton up from her shoulders to her waist; the rest can explain by itself.

Raising his head the doctor looks at Hillshire and starts,

"What is she...?" he ask receiving no answer,

"Who is she...? No...That's not the right question; who are you?"

The phone rings again, and once more the doctor picks up the phone and whispers to whoever was on the other side of the line. Minutes later, two other doctors bearing an age in the 70s storms into the room, eyes centered on Hillshire and Triela,

Hillshire froze and prays silently as the previous doctor nods and continuously answers the phone


	7. Chapter 6: Lebensborn Projekt

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 6: **_**Lebensborn Projekt**_

"Do you know the reason we've called you here?"

"...is it because what happened at the office recently...?"

"..." the man pause, "Part of it; sometimes I wish I never approved the use of male-cyborgs. But that's not the reason why we've called you here before us, Frederick."

"Then do fill me in! What's up?"

"We want you to explain yourself, being the closest to them, on where they could be currently."

It is the 15th of July, three months and counting since Hillshire and Triela's unauthorized leave. Little clue has been obtained on their whereabouts as patience slowly thins out across the entire staff members. Hospitals were contacted to locate them, while operatives and handlers who knew them personally were each brought upon each other to express their opinions and ideas of where could they run off to. Hillshire managed to clean his tracks almost perfectly; no signs of destination, an empty bank account with last known connection within Rome, papers regarding his career within the SWA...everything were clean. No signs of his or his operative have been heard since.

"If I'm Hillshire, what would I think...sir?" reply Frederick towards Lorenzo's last remarks "C'mon sir, what kind of stupid question is that?"

"Watch your mouth Frederick," cut Wesley, "Know your position—you're nothing than a lucky prototype that proved useful to us!"

Frederick stares in return, "Well looky here; seems like the handler sounds no different than the operative: sweet as a rose!"

"That's enough you two! Frederick, do speak if you have a clue."

Lorenzo's last minute interruption had prevented chaos within the boardroom. All around them eyes were leering towards both the young operative and the mature handler whose hands ready with the holsters. Some—like Ferro—had reacted similarly towards Frederick's reply and have her hands ready with her holster. Since then, negative impressions began to circulate around the German operative who stood face to face against a handler. Other operatives who heard the ruckus slowly sees Frederick as the most troubled operative towards the pressing need of the Agency to find Triela and Hillshire. Yet, he complied to their orders nonetheless. It was soon to believe his 'disturbance' was due to the other side of the coin:

Sophia and her handler

This in turn created more problems between Frederick and Sophia, displeased with the comments generated by others around the complex. There are times when they run up to a hold-out; respective weapons drawn. Frederick and his two Mauser C/96s against Sophia's Beretta M1951—their barrels shine under the light of the cafeteria. If it wasn't because Mia, Rachel, Laine, Anica, Rebecca, Anna, Henrietta, and Claes' plead, bloodshed would have been seen. Most of those who were in the cafeteria could recall what Sophia said towards Frederick before she leaves,

"I swear kraut! Someday I'll see you writhe in pain as I struck you down!"

They could also recall what Frederick said in return,

"Really...? Then do prepare one large coffin for _your_ fat-ass!"

The matter was soon kept silenced from the handlers. As if their little undeclared war never happened—it was all between the operatives.

The tense situation was no different with Hillshire and Triela as they face judgment.

##

"Tell me Herr Hartmann, do you recognize the '_Lebensborn Projekt_'?" ask the doctor as the other two shuts the door behind them. Hillshire returns his question with confusion printed in his face "Excuse me doctor, but what?"

"The _Lebensborn Projekt_, as it was called by us Germans was a project initiated by the E.U., the United States, A.S.E.A.N. Nations, Russia, and Japan after the end of the Cold War in order to help disabled veterans from the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and other conflicts by granting them another chance to live 'normal'—thus, they were called the 'Lebensborn'. It was a multi-national billion dollar project that involved the brightest minds of the entire globe."

"This project, however," continue a different doctor "was initiated in secrecy as test subjects were, in fact..."

"...children."

The third doctor's words convinced Hillshire of their knowledge towards Triela's matter. He steal glances towards Triela as she slowly struggle to lean towards the wall in order to get a good look towards these 'doctors'. The first doctor, continues

"Clearly, this isn't the same project—although undergone the same name—as the one run by Nazi Germany before the Second World War."

"But it had the near-same purpose: to create the perfect human."

"In our terms," continue the third "a complete man. Imagine those who were disabled walk! Those who were blind see! It was what we have dreamed of achieving!"

"I guess you guys need to read the Bible once or twice; it happened more than once in the past."

The first doctor smiles, "Silly girl, we're talking miracles in the 21st century! Not a thing of the past!"

"Then what happened...?"

Hillshire's return caught the attention of the doctors. Soon, they return to what they have been explaining "I guess it was a punishment for 'playing God'"

"What do you mean...?" ask Triela. Her nose begun running blood again, "If so, then what happened...?"

"It was reported that the project was cancelled. Our first test-subject conducted in Italy was reported deceased after the implants. We never expected—we have hoped it would succeed!"

"But then, it disappeared!" cut the third, "All the documents were lost, all data, and all prototype mechanical bodies were lost—they disappeared in a single night."

The second fixes his glasses, "But here, we saw what has become of our research—a living, breathing _Lebensborn_ with functional mechanical body. So tell us, Herr Hartmann, who are you really? Where are you from? And how...how did you acquire such...!" The doctor was speechless, yet Hillshire was relieved these doctors weren't those working under the roof of the SWA.

##

It was then that Hillshire finally opened up for the first time about his past job, about Triela, and about the Agency. The three doctors listen intently to the constant jabber the German blurt in his native tongue. It was as if they understand almost everything Hillshire mentions—everything he has to say. They were consciously taking notes minute by minute, word per word, underlining almost every detailed description Hillshire pointed.

By the hour, Hillshire had returned to where they had previously started—the hospital and his concern towards Triela's never-ending nosebleed. The first doctor fixes his wrist watch, closes his notes, and lends a hand towards Hillshire,

"I haven't introduced myself earlier, my name's Dr. Robert Hanke. I work for the German government—particularly the R&D Department. Posing as 'doctors' is our job. In reality, we were still trying to resurrect the _Lebensborn Projekt_ by researching human anatomy on live subjects. Of course, they were patients and we did give them the right treatment while working for the government."

The second rose from his seat and did the same as the first, "I'm Deitrich Miltz, part of the R&D Department of the German Bundeswehr. Similar reasons with Hanke, however I am more inclined into medicine."

Finally, the third rose and shake Hillshire's hand "Nicholas Adler, R&D Department. I have to say, compare to the two of them my profession in the R&D Department isn't much different."

Openly Hillshire receives them and returns their greeting by introducing himself and Triela—this time skipping the charade of being 'father and daughter' much to Triela's disagreement. It has come upon their agreement considering Triela's treatment. The result of the X-Ray has shown Triela's rib cage slowly piercing her internal organs. Triela's growing, and Hillshire understands how it felt.

Conditioning drugs were used on the girls working under the Agency to alter their minds, making them obedient and—although unnatural—to be in love with their handler. It was also used as a form of suppression towards the girl's growth to ease engineers to modify the girls. The Second Gens and the Third Gens were solutions the Agency came up to overcome problems experienced with the First Gens.

"We've always been suspicious with the Italian 'Social Welfare Agency'. Everything was sealed tight, none of our agents managed to learn what's inside!"

"We had sent two to three Agents from the German Intelligence Division;" said Dr. Miltz "However, they were reportedly KIA after an incident involving the Social Welfare Agency—there were rumors of child assassins, but the government denies the report saying they were killed by Italian special police. Yet here I can't believe my eyes meeting one!"

"We'll handle the reconstruction of her body. For now, she has to stay with us. We'll move to a different hospital; one that is under the watch of the German Government. There, we'll do as best as we can to help her."

"How long will this take?" Hillshire ask. A smile is soon returned to him by Dr. Adler,

"Not to worry; it'll take about three days or two. We have managed to create a new mechanical body based on our new research; hopefully it would suit her well. You can come with us if you like, Mr. Hartmann."

"I'll be damned!" he turn towards Triela, "You'll be fine, Triela. You're in good hands now; I can feel it!"

She nods silently, returning a smile as they left the room. Triela watch silently in her bed as lights passes her by and by before she is driven off to sleep

##

It was all the information they need. The Agency is convinced to what Frederick 'think' they'd be. 'Somewhere in Europe', he said calmly. 'If I'm Hillshire, I'll be thinking Europe; anywhere that is away from Italy, but not too expensive like America.' It was enough to convince the SWA to take a step further into locating the two escapees. It doesn't matter anymore for the Agency to return the operative dead or alive—the handler, however, is best left for dead.

Teams were selected, arranged, organized, grouped and were sent. For the past month the selected _fratello_ teams had received intensive anti-cyborg training to counter every possible threat from Triela, a training that could prove fatal to one another. Weaknesses of the cyborgs—1st, 2nd, and 3rd Generations—were exploited, military combat training applied, as well as silent assassination techniques towards those unfamiliar with disguises. It was different for _fratello_ teams such as Ehud/Luke and Wendy/Nero team. Having received required training through field experience, they were among the first sent separately. They work alone as a pair—and is most effective working as a pair.

Wendy's experience as an FBI agent gave them an edge in field reconnaissance and tracking, while Nero's capability as an operative when combined makes them a threat to whoever their up against. Anyone who had been laid eyes by them realized the difficulty for them to escape their grasps. Ehud and Luke, on the other hand, operate similarly yet differently at the same time.

Raised in a Jewish background-turn-Christian, Ehud applied the teachings of his religion to his operative, Luke. Ehud is calm in nature and is regarded as one of the rare handler who'd think through actions before submitting to it. His ways and how Luke operates receives tough criticism from the Agency, yet it gets the job done. Sometimes, violence is not the answer on solving problems—that's where Ehud and Luke came into play. Luke is recognized as one of the small minority of male operatives working under a handler. Although both Ehud and Luke were commonly away from the Agency on regular days, Luke is known to have contacted Claes more than one occasion for personal reasons. It was how both handler and operative react towards an objective that rise criticisms and praise at the same time. Luke is also remembered as the boy who gave Claes a white fur-ball named Liora—a cat.

They work alone, in pair with their handler and were effective as such.

##

The lights hanging above the ceiling of the hospital were amongst the first things Triela sees when she opened her eyes. It was late afternoon, two days since their visit to a hospital in Berlin leading to the discovery of German scientists or doctors responsible for creating the very first prototype of the mechanical body she now posses. The pain circulating through her body had since disappeared, and her head feels relatively lighter than usual. She noticed her scratchy nose due to dried-up blood from her previous nose-bleed, which also concludes that her nosebleeds have stopped since God-knows-when.

"Since when..." she pauses momentarily and scans the area "...screw that, where am I...?"

"You're in a government-sanctioned Hostpital."

She recognizes the voice that replied to her. It was Dr. Hanke's, one of the three doctors who said to have participated in the _Lebensborn Projekt_ and is also one of the doctors who promised her recovery in a week. Triela recognizes the feel of fake prosthetics in-place of her usual mechanical body. The feeling of being immobile disturbs her enough, much less the vision she's been having in her dreams recently.

"You're crying in your sleep fraulein, you're alright?"

"I-I'm fine, doctor..." she reply hesitantly, "I've been experiencing this more often than you think,"

"Really...? That's fascinating..."

##

It would take a few more days for the doctors and scientists to complete the new prosthetic for Triela that would hopefully, as promised, recover her to her original state. She's eager and nervous at the same time, yet is patient enough to wait for the results. Curious enough for her, she is required to constantly take a series amount of drugs before the new mechanical body arrives. This did raise suspicion and concerns in Hillshire's side on the necessity of her consuming a large dose of drugs. The doctors reply reassures and answers his concerns,

"We diagnosed her brain yesterday and it was quite a surprise for us to find a girl of this age having consumed a high dose of drugs! What have the Agency fed her? Led batteries?? This is insane!"

It was no surprise to Hillshire knowing full well what her previous job was. The medication is, as the doctors of the Agency said, to keep the girls alive. They were the life lines that divides between life and death for the girls. Without it, Hillshire could slowly see the effects it had left to Triela.

"Never mind that, but it did took us a whole day to analyze what the drugs' base components are and create an entirely new recipe to ease her symptoms and hopefully reduce the effects of whatever the Agency had given her; these things called...what is it?"

"Conditioning drugs and medications...?"

"Yes, those Herr Hartmann. Hopefully by the time we assembled her..." Dr. Miltz pause for a moment, carefully selecting his word choice "...sorry, _treat_ her with a complete mechanical body, hopefully the effects of the..."

"Conditioning drugs and medications...?"

"Right...! Hopefully the effects of those drugs she had previously taken would vanish. We'll require her to be neuro-scanned after we've treated her. You wouldn't mind, Herr Hartmann?"

"Certainly not." He sighs in relief, "After hearing that, I somehow want to break into tears...finally it'll all be over; all those treatments, the pain she's having..."

"There, there, you can cry on my shoulder if you like Herr Hartmann,"

"Don't touch me, please! I respect your government's assistance, but further...nuh-uh"

"I was just joking, Herr Hartmann!" reply Dr. Miltz laughing, "Come, come, let us get some beer and big wieners in your bar! I'm hungry..."

##

The air that smells of peace which lingers around Berlin isn't the same as the air around the capital of Italy, Rome. Each day numerous crimes have been committed by both the government and the local mafias in a quest for power and control. The pawns of the government, the SWA, was known as a child support agency that deals with disabled kids and provide them with necessary treatment and education. In reality, it was different than what the public know. For the first time, the Agency faced a threat larger than what they can hold. All available _fratellos_ were soon dispatched across Europe, leaving some of the newer ones within the walls of Rome to ease examination.

As the echo from the bell of Vatican echoes through the entire city of Rome, a second team comprised of some of the newer Second Generations and third readies themselves to take the leave

"You recognize our target?"

"Yes sir. A girl about 15-16 years of age, blond hair and dark skinned accompanied with a German about 30 years of age. Both were former agents of the Agency."

"Very good, Anna; you know your stuff!" the young girl blushes as the elder Falman, Klaus, pats her head

"Brother,"

The second member of the team is no other than Vato/Gewehr _fratello_ team; the younger Falman and his cyborg. The two, like any other Second Gens. Were amongst the newest addition to the ranks of the Agency and were regarded as one of the more successful operative since Petra's arrival. Having proven himself as an efficient assassin during the two months time span, Gewehr has shown the Agency the full capability of Second Gen. operatives. This grants him respect from other child assassins to a certain degree. His sniper rifle is his trademark with the name 'GEWEHR' carved on the stock of the weapon.

Anna is the main driving force through barricades and assaults on enclosed apartments; more or less a successor to Frederick's role. Wielding the MP5K, her small size and her innocent look were some of the key ingredients of deception. Having fooled the guards or mafias, she would start by dropping a flash bang before drawing her well-concealed MP5K from its case, raiding the entire room and eliminating all possible threat single-handedly. The 20-round magazine she carries proves not as a drawback to her, but as an advantage. As soon as the last round in her weapon is emptied she'd drop the weapon, taking anything nearby left by her prey and use it against them. Her pistol serves as a last-resort weapon if all else fails. For everything else, there are grenades.

"Troubled, Vato?"

"Partially; you know where we're going?"

"Stuttgart, Germany; we're still unsure where they're at, but at least the search radius has been narrowed. Wendy/Nero's team has managed to track down last sightings of Hillshire and Triela—they are in Germany. Ehud/Luke team is closing in on them; we're here to finish the job." The elder Falman lit his cigarette and sighs "Questions?"

"Will it be sufficient? I mean, we're being scattered across Germany! Is it enough?"

Klaus chuckles, "Still having doubts? We have Jean/Rico team and Wesley/Sophia team with us; why should we doubt?"

"Over confidence could lead to disaster,"

"That's not the case, at this point."

The third and fourth members of the strike force were the Jean/Rico team and Wesley/Sophia team. Jean/Rico is amongst the last few First Generation operatives who're still active. Regarded as a veteran and an example amongst the newer _fratello_ teams, Jean/Rico showed the full capability of what a First Gen. operative is capable as well as showing the result of what high-dose of medication and conditioning could do. Rico is a full-bred sniper, a patient and talented sharpshooter wielding the Dragunov, a Soviet manufactured weapon still popular for its accuracy and easy maintenance. She displayed the capability to kill cold-bloodedly just about anyone and follow orders with no questions asked.

Sophia is a different case. She is amongst the first Third Generation operative to have been fielded. Her tenacity and agility is famous other than her treatment towards other junior operatives in the Agency. She is a reminiscent of Elsa, a First Generation operative who fell madly in love with her handler which led to a bloody conclusion for both Elsa and Lauro. She is, however, different in some degree as she shows finesse and skills that clearly outclasses nearly all other operatives in the Agency. It was her arrogance towards others of the same that alienates her from the rest of the junior operatives. Sophia wields a heavily modified H&K G3 Rifle fitted with a harpoon gun in exchange of the grenade sling.

"We best get moving. We don't want the other to be far ahead; I don't trust that German prototype." Wesley commented, followed with Jean's agreement "Well, are we going?"

"If preparation checks are complete, then we'll be moving in a few minutes."

##

Night fall, and soon slumber falls in Berlin. The noises outside her window slowly die out as the moon slowly rise into the horizon as it bathe light into the small room she's in. There, Triela sat silently as she stares at the moon as thoughts run wild inside her head. She notices her handler, Hillshire, at rest by the bed's edge. She blushes lightly and wishes to complain for all the trouble he's putting himself into but is secretly grateful. She knew how much trouble Hillshire went through to help her, and she remembers clearly 'why' Hillshire went through all the trouble just for her sake.

"Fool..." she whispers silently, "If I have working hands and feet right now, I'll hit you in the head for all this..."

She stops, tears slowly runs down her cheek. Out of all the word choices available in her head, all she could blurt out is a 'thank you'. From there, she continues staring at the moon reminiscing her past, present, and what her future would be. It was thanks to the SWA that she became what she is today, but no thanks for the lack of future she had. It was thanks to her friends and peers in the Agency that shaped her to this day and prepared her. But most importantly, it was thanks to Hillshire for granting her a new life and showed her the meaning of life. Never had she been more grateful than the day both of them disserted the Social Welfare Agency and planned an entirely new, honest life. She missed her friends in the Agency dearly, but at the same time she wishes to never encounter them again.

"Frederick, Claes, Henrietta, Rico, Muffin, and everyone..." she starts "I'm fine here. My life has changed entirely, I'm a new person. I haven't touch or wield a single weapon since my desertion. So please, don't look for me. God, I pray they don't come looking for me..."

She pause momentarily, "But I do miss you; all of you. Frederick's remarks, Claes' philosophies, Henrietta's whine, Rico's satisfaction, Muffin's demands for practice..."

Carefully she snuggles into her blanket and sighs,

"I miss them...badly...I-I wish you all...you all..." a silent cry was all she could let out as she eventually cried to sleep

Triela never learn the ever-growing chances of her encountering her former friends once again in the days ahead of her. Meeting someone is a once in a lifetime chances, a moment where sometimes it could worth more than your life. Having been able to _reunite_ is a major struck of luck.

Even if the next chance were as mutual enemies...


	8. Chapter 7: Distance ::Part II::

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 7: Distance (Part II) **

"How are you feeling, fraulein?"

"...a bit lighter than usual. But this is amazing! I actually feel better!"

Exactly one week after the report considering Triela's complaints, the pain vanishes. The three doctors, said to be those who once participated in the _Lebensborn Projekt_, kept their word. Based on the original mechanical body along with further research and study of human anatomy through patients after patients as well with the contribution of Triela's old mechanical body, the German R&D Division under the guidance of Dr. Hanke, Dr. Miltz, and Dr. Adler soon have the capability on resurrecting the long-abandoned _Lebensborn Projekt_ with great success. The German-variant mechanical body was finished on July 22nd with its first prototype used by the former-Social Welfare Agency child assassin, Triela Hartmann.  
The mechanical body is entirely different than the Italian-variant, yet similar in many forms. Primarily it features artificial muscles and works similarly as the original version—the Italian variant. The difference lies in the metal used for the skeletal structure.

"It's just as we hoped you'd say fraulein!" reply Dr. Hanke with satisfaction, "It _is_ lighter! We designed it that way!"

"P-please! Cut the formalities..." reply Triela, "I'm just your regular patient, like everyone else!"

She pause momentarily, "...how much lighter is it again...?"

"We developed a new metal especially for this purpose," answer Dr. Adler fixing his glasses, "You might not understand it, but I'll explain it anyway just so you could have a clue."

Dr. Hanke fixes his glasses, letting out a cough and starts.

"For years, the German R&D Division weren't keen on abandoning the _Lebensborn Projekt_ after its official cancellation. Most of the scientists, doctors, and engineers part of the R&D Division have either one or more disabled in their family either due to the War or by birth. Others who were involved in the project participated due to the call of their heart; those who want to save lives, those who want to help."

"Are you driven by the same purpose too...?" The doctor gave Triela a gentle smile. He nod in reply before continuing,

"After the abandonment of the project, the German R&D, under the orders of the Government, continued its effort to develop a mechanical body.  
Years passed and soon all across the globe nations begun showing signs of what the _Lebensborn Projekt_ had benefitted. Artificial limbs and arms soon became public knowledge and are available to those who were willing to pay a hefty price. Germany, too, acquired such medical technologies and uses it for both research and recovery. Years of research and study eventually developed the Bio-Metal."

"H-hold on doctor...!" Triela cuts, "There's a lot of things to absorb in just a minute..."

"Is it ok for your young mind, my dear?"

"Well...I guess its ok. Mind continuing?"

The doctor smiles once again, thanking Triela before continuing.

"Anyway, the Bio-metal, as it was named, is an element created to be lighter than titanium yet stronger. It is designed to resemble the structure of the human bone to easily accept and adapt to the body of the patient. However, it is stronger, capable of enduring massive pressure or stresses greater than what the human bone can take. One unique trait of the Bio-metal is its capability on adapting to the growth of the user by absorbing nutrition consumed. The German-variant mechanical body is—although still in its prototype phase—lighter yet achieves the same capability as the Italian-variant mechanical body."

"No wonder it feels rather different..."

"Remember, this is still a prototype. Be sure to return here every end of the month! We need to check if it's working fine! No charge necessary, of course."

"Don't worry doctor, I will..." she fidgets and puckers her lips before eventually making up her mind "...so am I free to leave?"

"You're free to leave, Triela."

"Thank you! And 'Triela' does sound better than 'fraulein'."

##

The screeching halt woke the slumbered Frederick as the train reaches its destination: Berlin. The second team comprised of a veteran _fratello_ team, a 'tag-along' operative, and newer members of the SWA were immediately sent to the German capital and were to rendezvous with the Ehud/Luke team as the third team were to rendezvous with Wendy/Nero team in Munich.

As members of the second team hops out of the carriage, the 'tag-along' operative takes a deep breath

"It has been some time since I went here." Frederick said observing his surrounding, "This place used to be my hometown—my Fatherland. The air still smells of peace..."

"Piece of shit..."

"Hey!"

The Matthew/Muffin _fratello_ were amongst the members of the second team. Once part of the Australian SAS, Matthew implemented his skills and passed his skills to his operative, Muffin. The operative, a young girl bearing the age of 12-13 is identified with her hair tied in a pony-tail. Recognized to bear a near-striking attitude to her handler, Muffin inherited almost all-possible actions her handler reacted to. She is most conspicuous when she's with a bag of potato chips. Her short temper and distaste of civilian life due to her past were her character that stands unique among the rest.

Among all the jokes that echoes throughout the Agency, the one about 'Muffin eating _a_ muffin' is one of the more famous that consequently relates to the young operative, much to her disappointment and the fact how she _hates_ muffin.

"Berlin is a beautiful place!" Frederick reply towards his younger counterpart, "I mean, it's a historical place and all, and then there's..."

"All that crappy talk about about celebrities, about divorce, and about affairs...makes me sick!"

"You've been eavesdropping the conversation in the train by the two fat women, have you Muffin?"

"Well, yeah!" she reply, "...then there's the fact about Triela's desertion that pisses me off! Leaving us for some lame civilian life..."

Frederick kept himself silent as he is unable to reply to Muffin's further complaints and remarks,

"It couldn't be that bad! I mean, look at the positive side!"

Brandon/Mina were part of the second team sent to Germany, and is also regarded as the newer members of the Agency. Brandon, Mina's handler, joined the Social Welfare Agency after having been found by the Agency knowing full-well his vendetta against the Five Republics. Due to her premature age, Mina's transformation has developed past hallucinations involving her old pet parrot, Peeko. Brandon and Mina were operating as a back-up team in case a member in team 2 is down.

"You're always on the positive side, Mina..."

Mina frowns, "Muffin! There are many great things in life! This is like a field trip!"

"Now that's a girl that understands Berlin!" points the German with great joy "Berlin is beautiful huh?"

"She's still seven, Frederick." Cut Muffin, "She might've not understood all the hardships in life...yet."

"Hey, I'm not _that _innocent!"

"Oh yeah...?" Muffin challenge, "Do you understand the 'Hillshire Farm' joke?"

Mina startles and pauses, taking small glance to the Muffin who slowly releases a big curve around her jaw and secretly holding her restrained giggle. She then turns to Frederick and notice that he, too, is holding his laughter; his hand covers his face as he let out snickers—clearly trying his best to contain his urge to laugh. Eventually, Mina made her mind,

"It's about Hillshire owning a farm! Am I right...?"

"Close..." Muffin turns to Frederick and whispers as small chuckles escapes her, "See? She doesn't even understand the 'Hillshire Farm' joke! Hell, I could always recall what the cafeteria lady said each time we're having curry wurst for lunch!"

A refined laughter from a girl behind them caught the attention of both Muffin and Frederick. She smiles at them and reply, "'More flavorful', right...?"

Fernando/Rachel _fratello_ were included among the team. Fernando was an ex-CIA agent who left the Agency only to be recruited by the Social Welfare. Although many considered him blind in first sight due to his sunglasses, it was all a simple ruse to hide his ability to see. His sensitive eyes is the main reason that forced him to use sunglasses during the day and the night as further exposure to light would cause momentary blindness. Although he left the CIA years back, the Agency continuously reminds him that he is still under their employ. Rachel is Fernando's operative as well as his goddaughter. Although unbeknownst to the Agency, both Rachel and Fernando were related as Fernando did adopted Rachel before the Agency took her after an incident in New York. Fernando is known to be protective over Rachel due to her violent past.

"Yeah—don't tell Mina about it though," Muffin reply,

"Of course I wouldn't. I find this quite interesting. Of course, I thought there is something going on between you two,"

Muffin's cheeks burns red immediately, either because of blushing or anger is out of the question of both Rachel and Frederick, "WHAT!!"

"_Ach so,_" Frederick reply, "just because I'm a boy and she's a girl...?"

"Need further explanation?" challenge Rachel. Muffin snarls,

"NO WAY! With _this_ hormonal raging bastard...?"

"Hey! Just so you know it is normal for a boy of this age!"

Folding her arms in disagreement, Muffin replies, "We are meant to kill, kill, kill, and KILL!! NOT screw around!"

"Uuhmm...is there something going on here?"

The last members were the Giuseppe/Henrietta team. Veterans among the rests, Giuseppe and Henrietta Croce have displayed magnificent talent and cooperation in the battlefield granting them 'leader' position in team two.

"Nothing regarding Giuseppe, Henrietta..." reply Muffin to the rather dumbfounded Henrietta,

Henrietta simply returns her gaze with a confused one before joining the rest in the walk.

##

Things are different in Berlin. Finding Triela and Hillshire would require a plenty dose of luck and information as they were mixed with the Berliners for more than three months. Fortunately, it is what Ehud/Luke _fratello_ team has from the beginning. Luke, unlike any other, has been pitted in some of the Agency's most dangerous missions. Either it was due to Ehud's personal training or his high stroke of luck, Luke would not survive the missions he has gone through.

It was as much of a surprise to Triela and Hillshire as it is to Luke and Ehud. A matter of coincidence, as Ehud described it in the chance. Hillshire, too, isn't expecting meeting someone familiar in preference to _avoiding_ them.

"Good morning, _fraulein_," Greeted Luke towards the baffled Triela

"We didn't expect to see you here, Hillshire. What a coincidence..."

"Ehud!" Hillshire reply, "What do you want? How did you..."

"Don't worry; we're here just to make sure of...things considering you and Triela's desertion. Shall we have a cup of coffee...?"

##

Accommodation wasn't the slightest problem for the second team. Seeing how far the situation has gone and how Triela wasn't the detected in any hospital meant they could only rely on what's at hand; Ehud/Luke and Wendy/Nero's reports from their own personal investigation. The Agency is willing to pay a large sum of money to support the teams, giving them the best hotel and accommodations for the search team to feel comfortable. They had figured the search would take more than a month, and they need the entire search teams to be on their best guard.

"Big, fluffy, bed...!" Mina, being the first to enter the room quickly took off her shoes before making a jump to one of the single bed, "This is fun! I always wanted to go out and sleep in this comfy thingy!"

"So much for room accommodations...salute the Agency for this!" Frederick commented as he makes his way while the other operatives place their belongings, "I can't even believe I would actually be _staying_ here for the next month! I'd regret leaving this place!"

"The SWA sure paid a hefty price for us..." comment Rachel, "This is one hotel I'd regret leaving..."

"Three rooms, connecting doors...this is just sweet! If only the dorms in the Agency were like this, I'd stay home!" Muffin stretches her shoulders before noticing the window and balcony. Immediately she head outside and, as if firing her imaginary rifle, she aims her fingers down to the streets below "Cool! A place to snipe from! Pew! Pew!"

Five rooms; three having opened connecting doors were to be their main base of operation in the city. Having past security checks via identification cards and by posing as detectives on a trip with their sisters or family, they managed to smuggle all of their firearms ranging from ones tuck by the belt to weapons hidden in their instrument cases.  
Having been given separate rooms, each handler was satisfied not to have needed to sleep close to their operatives despite their disagreement. It also became an opportunity for the handlers to have their operatives to get acquaintance with one another. Mina and Henrietta became roommates and were already getting acquainted despite Mina's call for 'Peeko' once in awhile during their conversations. While in the room next door, Rachel and Muffin occupied the two available single beds. Both Matthew and Fernando were rather peculiar about them being in one room, but prayed that it would work out. Fernando warned Rachel not to host any weird games in the room during the stay while Matthew hands Muffin about three bags of chips and ask for her cooperation to keep things down and not to litter or make a mess.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Muffin comment, "How come you get to have one room with a double-bed, Frederick??"

"Hey, I'm the only male species around here!" Frederick reply, "I doubt the handlers would let me move there with an extra bed...or not,"

"I heard that Frederick! Do anything to Rachel and I'll be sure you'll be flying on your way down!"

Frederick turns his attention to the door across his room as he chuckles towards the voice, "See? Fernando says it all!"

"BS!" cuts Muffin, "I bet you just need the extra space to jack off--being a 'normal' boy you are!"

Frederick twitches upon hearing Muffin's remark. He, however, had no chance to reply since Muffin left the room a second after.

"Kids grow up faster these days..."

##

The supposedly peaceful talk between Hillshire and Ehud is tense. With Hillshire constantly switching gazes from his cup of coffee to Ehud who drinks his sip by sip. Things are no different between Luke and Triela either, with both sides unwilling to speak. Triela constantly switch her gaze between the Israeli boy and his handler before returning to Hillshire, the coffee stall, and back to her cup. Her hands shiver, both in an attempt to adjust the feel of her new body and the other due to the strange feeling she felt upon meeting the Ehud/Luke,

Fear,

She knew from the start the Agency would seriously consider their action as an act of treason. Desertion could lead to several consequences ranging from the leak of the Mechanical Body to unwelcomed parties, the capture of said _fratello_, and of course, the force closure of the Social Welfare Agency if the use of children as a means of counter-terrorism, experiments, and political assassination tool ever reach the press or public ears. She thought, 'if I told Hillshire earlier about the consequences, will this happen?' over and over again. One thing, she's grateful for receiving her freedom and thank the German doctors who's willing to save her. She enjoyed the absence of the conditioning drug effects having seen Hillshire not as someone she should fanatically protect or to an extent, love. In her eyes, Hillshire is just Hillshire; her caretaker, her guide, her 'father'.

Yet deep inside, she felt a struck of guild for not warning Hillshire of the consequences he faced. She is engulfed with a series of mixed feelings of regret, thankful, guilt, and sadness.

"You're awfully quite today, Triela..." Luke starts in hopes of lightening the mood, "Something wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing..." is all she could reply, "There's nothing you should worry about..."

The unchanging situation similarly circles around Ehud and Hillshire, with both sides refusing to talk. Ehud waits patiently, taking small sips of his coffee as Hillshire checks his surroundings, taking glances at the table not far from theirs with his index finger hooked on to the cup. Ehud quietly and patiently waits for Hillshire, knowing full well he'd break first before he does,

"You will kill me and take Triela after this, will you?" Hillshire starts, "I mean not to accuse you but I knew all along about the consequences,"

"If so, then why do it?" Ehud replies professionally, "If you want a discharge, the Agency could grant that—but of course, you have to leave her behind."

Hillshire shook his head, "No, no...I'm not looking for a discharge."

"Then, what is it?" he lowers his cup and settles it, "Are you planning to defect?"

"Do I look like a defector?"

"As of now, no; a deserter, yes," Ehud leans towards the table, focusing his attention to the detective, "So tell me, Hillshire, what is your main purpose of deserting the Agency?"

Hillshire kept silent for a moment, raising his head momentarily before dropping it down again. He took glances towards Triela and Luke, then back again to Ehud who is twitching his eyebrow. Finally, he spoke up,

"This is the end, I guess..." he started, "Triela...she is my hope."

"Your hope...?"

"Yeah," a slight curve forms under his lips, "Long ago, my partner and I were on a mission involving illegal smuggling of children at a young age to be use in Amsterdam, Netherlands."

"Continue,"

"That night, we storm a snuff racket in an attempt to save the children and capture the suspects; it didn't go that way. My partner was shot in the process and was wounded. She was a doctor assigned under my command and..."

"She...?"

"Yes, 'she'..."

"I thought you are still single..."

"May I?"

"Sure,"

Hillshire sighs, "Well, she was a doctor assigned under my command and responsibility. It was unofficial, however. The storming of the racket is also unofficial; we didn't expect the local police to help. Despite her wound and my concerns for her, we press forward towards the set. That was where I first met Triela,"

A moment of reflection engulfs him, a spear of melancholy. He place his hand on his face, adjusting his eyes and sighs,

"Can you continue?" Ehud asks.

"Yeah, sure," Hillshire took a deep breath, and sighs, "She insisted on saving her despite her wound. She tried and tried to revive her, being a doctor she was she tried to save her to the point of exhaustion. Rachelle died that day in an exchange for another life. With her last breath, she place all hopes to the girl she saved and put her under my responsibility. That's how it came to be, and that's why..."

"But that doesn't explain your reason 'why' you decided to deserted the Social Welfare Agency, Hillshire."

"Please, let me continue,"

Ehud slumps by his chair, ears open.

"Three months ago there was a mission involving a raid on an old warehouse outside of Rome. It was supposed to be a simple mission, involving all of us—Giuseppe, Jean, Sandro, and I—and our operatives. We expect resistance from the Five Republics, but not too heavy. Just for a precaution, we received a back-up team to be called on sight if things get a little too hairy,"

##

An hour passed as Hillshire explains what had triggered his 'consciousness' that day. A lesson has been learned. The entire chaos begun when Henrietta shielded Giuseppe from a claymore trap Padania had set before. They knew the Agency were coming and gunning for them, and they're prepared. Entrenching themselves in the warehouse using containers and boxes, the entire field became a close-quarters battle of sudden death. About a minute later Jean contacted the team that he's calling in the back-up crew and is pulling out due to the injury Rico, his operative, had sustained. Triela was next in the crosshairs of a sniper equipped with a Barrett M82A3 .50 Caliber rifle. The shot echoed throughout the warehouse as she was pushed down from the impact. Hillshire managed to take over and kill the sniper using his pistol before pulling Triela to safety under intense fire. Petra and Sandro were cornered and were trapped in crossfire from their left and right receiving punishment from a positioned machinegun to light assault rifles before eventually receiving hits as their cover deteriorates.  
Eventually, the second team went through and rescued the battered first team. The roof of the warehouse was blasted with explosives as the second team slides in. The back-up team comprised of Frederick, Laine, Anica, Adrie, and Savyna eventually cleared the warehouse swiftly. It was a bloodbath for both sides, as Laine slides into combat with her knife and cuts down all that opposes her. Adrie use the cover advantage and elevation to snipe a machinegun team and rescue Sandro and Petrushka while Savyna proceeds to replace them to clear the warehouse. Frederick, as stunned as he was upon seeing Triela's condition, kept it together and escorted both Hillshire and Triela outside before returning to mop the remaining resistance. It was one of the fiercest fire-fight the Agency had ever engaged; not one operative that participated exit the warehouse unscathed.

"...and that is why you decided to desert the Agency?"

"I want to start a new life," Hillshire reply, "That moment I realized how fragile life is; how fragile they were. Sure, their structures were based on carbon fibers and artificial muscles but..."

Hillshire sighs, "Ehud, can't you see? Despite all the use of conditioning and medication and despite how they were structured; they're still kids! And they deserve something better than having to face life-threatening missions! If I decided to leave the Agency, then I'm taking Triela with me. At least before it all ends, I want to show her what being 'alive' meant and..."

"That's enough, Hillshire." Stops Ehud, "I have heard enough,"

Raising his hand, the man calls in a waiter and asks for the bill using near perfect German. The waiter nods and returns moments later with the bill served in a hand-size tray. The Israeli man pops a wallet from his pocket and draws a Visa. The waiter took off and soon returns with the card where it once again disappears into the wallet of the Israeli man. He stood up, calls his operative, and said,

"Freedom is priceless. For everything else, there's Master Card."

"Where are you two going?"

"Wherever," Ehud replies, "You're still in safety—for now."

"...you're not gonna' tell about us...?"

Luke grins towards the young girl, "We'll see about that. We didn't take you with us, did we?"

"By the way, Hillshire, before we leave..." turning his attention towards the dumbfounded German, Ehud smiles "Roberta Guelfi left a message for you; care to listen?"

"Yes, please!"

"She said, 'good luck! I'll come and visit sometime," The Israeli then hands Hillshire a card, "She also gave you her phone. You're one lucky guy..."

"Thanks Ehud. I won't forget what you've done today,"

The Israeli waves his hand, backs facing the two fugitive of the Agency. As they left, Triela turns to her handler,

"...so you're gonna' call her?"

"Hopefully soon," he reply, "You're not feeling jealous are you?"

Triela sheepishly turns her back from him, blushing in the process "A-as if! I'll manage..."

She sighs, "Seriously though, the old feeling somehow vanishes with the effects. The Germans sure did put a lot of effort into this..."

Patting her head in return despite Triela's protest, Hillshire smiles gently towards the girl whom he have watched since the day his partner died. Looking up to the sky, Hillshire whispers silently to himself,

"_Rachelle, you would be proud to see what the girl you saved has come to be..."_

The sudden echo of Triela's ringtone snapped Hillshire from his momentary ponder. The girl answers her call, responding to the caller with glee and laughter as the two of them walk down the U-Bahn. She laugh, chuckle, and reply with utmost pleasure and satisfaction. Moments later she ends the call and turns to Hillshire,

"I'm going to the _Botanischer Garten_. It's Roland, and he has some homework that I should take home and finish from my absence."

"Go ahead. Be sure to return before ten!"

"Roger!"

##

Despite the ruckus generated by the young operatives which leads to the attention of the hotel clerks and staffs, the group settled down in their rooms first organized by the handlers. The rest is up to the handlers on where and when they were to be deployed. Under the leadership of Giuseppe, the _fratello _teams were to 'patrol' Berlin and search the fugitive. With a little help of luck, they could possibly encounter Triela and seize her or Hillshire and capture him for details before taking him out of the picture. But for now, no assignments have been given.

"I'm going to go and get some snacks," propose Rachel, "I mean, we can't play monopoly and have chips all day! Muffin! You should stop eating that!"

"It's up to me what I want to stuff in my mouth!" she replies as she ravages another handful of potato chips, "Beshides, thish shing ish shelishious!"

"...and don't talk with your mouth full. You'll get chip bits all over the board..." Rachel pause, "You guys want to have something else than potato chips?"

"Pringles...!"

"You have enough, Muffin—three bags of Potato chips is plenty."

"How about ice cream?" ask Mina, "I don't know but I want some sweets right now..."

"If she's having ice cream, I want one too!" follow Henrietta

"I'll have a _pfannkuchen_ with chocolate fillings, thanks."

Rachel returns Frederick's request with a gaze, "...say that again? A fan-cook-what's it?"

"_Berliner_ rings a bell...? A jelly doughnut...?"

"Oh, right! Now _that_ rings a bell! Somehow it reminds me of Kennedy's speech about..."

"It's grammatically correct, mind you," reply Frederick quickly cutting Rachel's line, "I'm a native speaker and I live here before. I do get the joke though..."

"...literally means 'I'm a jelly doughnut' to people outside of Germany...correct?"

The young operatives let out a small laughter which echoes through the three rooms. Muffin managed to let out a laugh and got herself choked by the chips. She managed to drain them down with water before continuing with her chips.

"There's a good shop not far from the _Botanischer Garten_ or the Botanic Garden. I think you'll find most of your stuff there, so I suggest you head there. It's not that far from here."

"Thanks Frederick, I'll consider that."

The door opens and reveals Fernando wearing his usual sunglasses and his all-seeing stick in hand, "Ready to go?"

"Sure." Rachel reply while gathering her belongings without forgetting her trusty side-arm, of course, "Frederick gave a good suggestion on where we should go shop. Shall we head there?"

Little to the knowledge of the operatives and to Triela, this would mark the first encounter that would lead to a series of clashes between friends and foes that exists within the Agency.

**Author's Note:**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GUNSLINGER GIRL, CHARACTER FERNANDO/RACHEL, EHUD/LUKE, MATTHEW/MUFFIN, BRANDON/MINA **_**FRATELLO**_** TEAMS. THEY ARE RESPECTFULLY OWN BY ****ELFENMAGIX, ****COLONEL MARKSMAN, WHATFACE, AND WEST NILE. **

**Frederick is the only OC I create. **

**Thank you for those who participated in this fiction of mine! I'll do my best not to disappoint you all! **

**Don't forget, please R&R and leave your feedback! **


	9. Chapter 8: Encounter

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 8: Encounter (Rachel F.) **

The bus makes it stop at the terminal near the _Botanischer Garten_ in Berlin. Out of the bus, now recovered and is adjusting to her new mechanical body was Triela, standing tall with her hair—tied as pigtails—swayed by the blowing summer wind. She had noticed moments earlier how the doctors has given her new 'heights' compare to her previous, transforming her from the young girl she was to a more refined young lady.

"This should be the place," she starts before observing her surroundings, "Now I just have to find Roland..."

The _Botanischer Garten und Botanisches Museum_ is one of Berlin's historical landmark and recreation center displaying a large variety of plants obtained from German colonies back in the 17th century. Today, the garden organizationally belongs to the _Freie Universität Berlin_. The Botanical Garden has the Botanical Museum and a large scientific library attached to it, with its museum holding a large collection of herbarium. The _Botanischer Garten und Botanisches Museum_ is situated in Steglitz-Zehlendorf, the sixth borough of Berlin.

In the eyes of a girl who has never been anywhere outside the Social Welfare Agency, the 42 hectares of glasshouse, open spaces, museums, library and the large array of plant species were immensely beautiful. She couldn't help stopping by one of the plant species and examines them, reads them and understands them despite her knowledge of someone waiting for her arrival. Eventually she makes her way to _Das Große Tropenhaus_, or the Great Pavilion. The world's largest glasshouse is where she currently is supposed to meet.

"Took your time," Roland start as an introduction, "I almost have thoughts of going home! You do recognize how busy Tuesdays are, right?"

"I'm so sorry Roland!" Triela reply in her most fluent German, "I have been a little unwell, but things are shaping up...I guess. So, what do you have for me?"

"Straight to the business, huh...?" Roland chuckles, "Well let's see...you have three History homework; one about Soviet Russia, another about the rise of Dictators—which means Stalin, Hitler..."

"...Mussolini," she cuts, "Yes, I know Roland. I've read about them."

"Well that's not just it. Another is considering Soviet influence on Germany during the Cold War—you need to have a report typed up by...the latest should be on Friday..."

"Friday!?" she jerked, "That's insane! I've just returned and..."

"...next week, Triela," Roland sighs, "You're cool, don't worry."

Blushing slightly out of embarrassment, she continues, "What else is there in need of my 'dire attention'?"

"Oh yes! You have German literature essay to type about over-population due on Thursday; good thing the teacher is a little merciful on girls, huh?"

Triela chuckles, handing over a slight jab on Roland's shoulder, "Oh, c'mon...I've been sick for the past week!"

"Well, continuing..." checking his agenda, Roland let out a discomforting chuckle—for Triela, "Get this, we have a math test about calculus tomorrow! Feel free to freak out!"

"Why am I not surprised?" she sighs, "Is there anything else...?"

"You're not surprised? Oh well...then other than this scenery," continue Roland, "No. You want to take a walk? I mean, you haven't explored the entire botanical garden have you? We might as well take a look around."

Triela snickers towards Roland's offer, noticing the slight tint around his cheeks, "W-what?"

"You're not attempting to ask me for a date, would you?"

"Why would I? Or even, why _should_ I?"

"Just curious, is all."

Roland returns Triela's look with confusion. She smiles, accepting his offer. "...then...shall we?"

_The sunset is passing into the darkness  
Into the entrance of the cold night_

The boy grins chuckles, overjoyed as he 'introduce' himself—playing as the guide—before he introduces the entire garden. His hand guides his lengthy explanation as he takes her around the glass-house for a brief explanation and a start of the tour. His heart beats faster and faster as each word left his mouth.

_Face down, I ambush you, and at last we've met  
It's just the two of us, unbeknownst to anyone else_

Obediently she follows, giggling and smiling as they explore the garden. His chatty nature never did bother her or disturbed her in the first place; rather, she loves his company. Her heart, too, slowly began to thump faster and faster.

_Please, don't leave me  
I blush with shyness, like a red balloon_

Not long after did Triela catch a full glimpse of Roland's smile did she felt the increase in her heart's tempo and the burning sensation on her cheeks. Secretly she hides this embarrassment by turning her face away from her. A smile was formed in the process as she listens to the thumping of her heart...

_I can say...I can say...  
I can never say it...  
I've said it over and over in my dreams_

She recognizes this feeling of her; this heartbeat, this sensation as blood rushes through the veins faster. She kept her composure through most of the time despite the strong urge—to tell him. Here Roland guides her through the _Botanischer Garten_, and yet here she misses the chance.

_I can say...I can say...  
I can never say it..._

She takes a deep breath and sighs. Roland turns his attention. "Is something the matter?"

Triela pause...

"I'm fine, thank you." She reply as her right hand combs her hair. "Tired?"

"Me? Of course not...!"

_I should probably tell you  
Let me love you_

_##  
_

Things were a little different for Fernando/Rachel _fratello_ team with their unusual errands. Finding their way to the sixth borrow via U-Bahn isn't so difficult. Speaking _German_ is a different case. There's also the fact about finding their way to the shop Frederick mentioned about. Rachel grumbles, commenting on Frederick with every possible word imaginable of being vague and unclear.

"Frederick better pay me double if I managed to find the store! Acting like a monkey doesn't help communication..."

Fernando kept himself silent for a moment before eventually replying, "He just thought we—_I_—supposed to understand and is able speak his native tongue. Maybe he thinks too highly of us."

"I don't mind the way he thinks, really," Rachel sighs, "What I do mind is whether or not we'll be able to return to our hotel! I'm not wishing to spend the night somewhere in Berlin like a hobo..."

Her handler managed to let out a small laughter, "Don't worry; we have satellite phone. If we get in a little jiffy, we can always call Frederick to pull us out—he should know Berlin like the back of his hand."

Eventually they managed to locate the shop after making a few runs and passes over the _Botanischer Garten und Botanisches Museum_ for over 5 times. The day is slowly getting late as they purchase the requested delicacies from the small private-own bakery. The smell of fresh buns and baked treats whiffs the air within the store, enticing anyone young and old to taste what they have to offer. Secretly Rachel praises Frederick—the bakery sure is worth the find. A mini-market was conveniently positioned next to the bakery, giving them quick access to whatever is left in their list.

"Why are you taking so many Pringles...?"

"It's for Muffin," Rachel replies to her now-bewildered handler, "I take one of each flavor just to be sure Muffin doesn't complain if I picked something that her tongue finds distasteful."

"You know that too much salt could cause heart attacks, right?"

Rachel stops her activity and turn to her handler, "True, dad, true...but try telling that to Muffin. I doubt she'll listen. I've seen her lick the salt shaker clean of its contents once in the cafeteria..."

##

It was late in the evening, 1800 hrs. Both Fernando and Rachel had just exited the store carrying two plastic bags; one filled with Pringles featuring a variety of different flavors and two jelly doughnuts, another with ice cream and some dry ice to keep things cool within the bag. As the clock struck four, both Fernando and Rachel were thinking of returning back to the hotel. Luck, however, was on their side. The moment they pass by the _Botanischer Garten_, a familiar figure walks out. Her hair who's tied in pigtails sways with the wind as the sun reflects its golden radiance. Her skin, dark and well tanned marks one of her unique features that she is not from Germany. Fernando grins victoriously as Rachel prepares herself,

"Bingo...!"

The quiet street around the _Botanischer Garten_ marks the signal. Triela felt a sudden discomfort the moment Roland left her 10 minutes ago, ending their trip in the garden. It was the unusual feeling that kicked her the moment she left the botanic garden, as if someone was eying on her, watching her from a distance, waiting for the perfect chance. She hastens her pace only to feel the presence gaining on her ever so slowly before she attempted to lose them with a run.  
A voice echoed behind her the moment she took the run, confirming that her feelings were indeed, true. She turn in corners, cross streets and cut through lawns before eventually returning to the _Botanischer Garten_. Taking deep breaths in between after being exhausted, she turns around in hopes of losing them only to find _her_. It is 8.00pm, an hour before closing

"Good afternoon, _fraulein_." Greet Rachel in a rather edgy German, "Would you like to come with us?"

"Your German needs fixing..." Triela takes a step back, "...and why should I? What do you want with me?"

"We've been asked to take you back, Triela."

"I don't want to return. I've made my choice and I won't turn on it!"

"Are you sure...?" Rachel slides her jacket, revealing a silenced pistol, "Because we were given two options. We can go with the easy way, or the hard way..."

"...what about Hillshire?"

Rachel sighs, "Like it or not, he'll _have_ to take the hard way."

"Then I'm not returning."

"Suit yourself..."

With her last response, Rachel utilizes her quick reaction and draws the first shot. Her suppressed NAA .32 howls at the target, sending the projectile whizzing past Triela's head. She dodged the first shot, the second, then the third using existing objects as cover before making a break. The closing atmosphere grants Rachel the advantage with little or no witnesses to see her, allowing her to wield her pistol freely. Fernando follows moments later after witnessing Rachel's opening shots at Triela.

"After her Rachel...!"

"Yes dad!"

Quickly holstering her weapon, Rachel was soon hot on Triela's trail. She concealed it, waiting for the perfect chance to capture that headshot; a moment she's always after. In an attempt to halt Rachel's trail, Triela turns to face her. Her fist clenched, her body tensed, and her figure ready. She lures her into the _Das Große Tropenhaus_ and—using the plants and bushes to her advantage—waits for her. Seconds later, the door opens and up comes the barrel of a suppressor who swung about looking for a prey. The young wielder cautiously enters the glasshouse, alert and ready.

"Come out, Triela...I know you're in here...!"

##

Word of Rachel's encounter haven't reach Esplanade Grand Hotel Berlin and things were a little more peaceful. The young operatives were gathered together and sat in a circle playing UNO, laughing, cursing, and munching at their discrete. Although they only have potato chips brought by Muffin, it was enough for the meantime. The two younger ones shout and giggles screaming 'UNO' at whoever holds a single card while the elder ones curses when they see the chance.

"I swear this game won't end with Henrietta around..." Frederick said as he draws a blue card, "This is the third time..."

"This is fun, so I guess its ok..." she innocently replies, "We don't have that many chance to play like this at the Agency."

"I can still remember what happen a few months ago," cut Muffin, "We're playing Twister in Claes' room with her absence. Damn, I laid a good kick to someone that day and knocked that person to Triela's teddy rack...that did outraged her. I wonder who it was..."

"That was me..."

"Oh, it's you Frederick?"

"Yeah...damn that hurts. Still, I did get around you know!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." she pause, staring at Frederick's card as he drew another, "Oh, UNO mother fragger! Hah!"

Grinning victoriously, Frederick slides his thumb upwards and reveals a second card stacked with one. "Told you I'd get around,"

"That's just so friggin' cheap!" she turns to Mina, "Tell him it's cheap!"

Innocently she turns her attention to Frederick who rolls his eyes in response. She starts, "Where did you learn that trick? I should try it too!"

"No, no!! It's cheap and its lame!" Muffin slaps her forehead, "Stop corrupting the younger ones with your lameness..."

The sudden echo of _Flight of the Valkyries_ distracted the operatives. Frederick calmly picks up his phone,

"Frederick here..."

"That's his ring-tone...?" comment Muffin, "Why can't he use Battlefield 1942's main theme? That's awesome!"

"Shush!"

A startled Frederick comes next. His words were strong, tense, and alert. Closing the phone he turns to the rest of the operatives,

"Fernando called; he said they found Triela. Rachel's in hot pursuit." The chatters quieted, and the situation tenses, "I'm going for support."

"Oh, hell if you're going I'm going!" Muffin stands from her position, "I've been waiting for a good match!"

"Nope; you're staying Muffin! Someone needs to keep an eye on the younger ones!"

"ME...!? Are you nuts?" she twitches, "The handlers can take care of them!"

"Do you know your way around?" challenge Frederick, "I doubt you can keep up with me—although I believe you can. Fernando's warning the handlers too, so I guess all of you should get ready. I'm going ahead!"

Frederick runs out of the room; his Mauser C96s tucked hidden under his olive drab trench coat. Muffin had little time to react as her weapons were safely tucked away in the safe. Watching him fled she shouts, "Come back here you bastard! Wait for me! Hey!"

##

The lights lit the path in and around the _Botanishcer Garten_ as the moon sets to replace the sun. The occasional echo of speeding cars, the bark of dogs, and the chirp of crickets accompanies Rachel as she cautiously explores the glasshouse with her suppressed NAA .32 ready. Triela kept herself still, checking her wrist watch occasionally as the moon rises each ticking seconds. Her heartbeat was slow and steady; controlled, yet tensed. Her senses were as sharp as knives and her fist, now covered in sweat, clenched.

"_8.30 PM..." _she thought to herself, _"Damn, if what Roland said is correct, I'll be spending my night with mother nature if this goes on pass nine!" _

Finally the figure she's been waiting for appears before her, walking past her and completely missed her. Triela waits for the perfect ambush moment; a position where she's directly in front of her, allowing a quick and sudden palm strike to knock her unconscious. Further, she'll have to think of a way to escape Fernando who, by now, is waiting outside the glasshouse.

With the moment in place, Triela strikes.

The sudden rustle of plants alerted Rachel as she turns violently towards the dark silhouette coming at her. She pulls the trigger only to completely missed the target as Triela's hand managed to redirect her pistol upwards towards a middle-eastern plant before forcefully disarm her. The pistol tumbles and slides out of their reach. With both Rachel's hand locked with Triela's left, the ex-operative is free to strike the disarmed girl. With her right hand free, a palm strike directed towards Rachel's face came rushing with force.

She dodges it. Using her flexibility to her advantage, Rachel dodged Triela's first strike

"_S-she dodged it!?" _

Stunned by her flexibility, Rachel makes her first move. With both of her hands locked and with Triela in a vulnerable position, Rachel utilizes her free legs to strike Triela's soft spot—the stomach. Her kick was sharp and accurate, causing Triela to sputter and cough in pain and unwillingly releases her lock. With her hands and movement restrictions free, Rachel swings her leg in a circular form towards Triela's face, knocking her backwards and slamming her to the supporting beam. Triela coughs from the shock, spitting blood in the process as Rachel takes her stance.

"Should have stayed hiding under the bush, Triela!" Rachel grins victoriously, "You're not as tough as you used to..."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Triela follows wiping blood off her lips, "It's been three months since I practice!"

The darkness that engulfs the glasshouse never restrict both of their movements. In a matter of seconds, Triela leaps from her position and strikes towards the ever-ready Rachel. Her hits were powerful, yet were stoppable by Rachel and her granted hand-to-hand fight against Triela. It goes similarly for Triela who uses her wits, skills, and experience against Pinocchio's memorable hand-to-hand fighting, implementing it similarly in combat. Rachel utilizes her flexibility, her gymnastics, and her martial arts to strike at Triela's open spots to great efficiency. Her opponent counter-attacks in return, brushing her cheek in response to a quick, accurate strike. Within seconds, Rachel managed to formulate quick strikes towards Triela and once again controls the battle. Using her legs, she strikes hard at Triela's pelvis, knocking her off balance once again and slamming her to an indoor tree. She regains balance moments later, dodging Rachel's strike and counter-attacking using an elbow strike towards her opponent's chest. Rachel coughs hard as she tumbles across the granite floor.

"A-amazing..." she states as she struggles to stand, "A normal man would be paralyzed after receiving a hit that hard on the pelvis..."

Taking deep breaths in between, Triela replies, "You should consider this; we're not categorized as 'normal'. We are, after all, cyborgs."

"Feh..." Rachel spits blood in conjunction with Triela's reply, "Let's play a little rough this time..."

From her skirt, Rachel draws her last resort weapon. Triela's eyes were as sharp as the hawk that glides above its prey as she carefully tries to read her next move. What strikes her came as a surprise; six inch safety pin drawn from her skirt, wielded as knives. A brush of wind whiffs around her neck seconds later, signifying Rachel's next attack. Triela stood there unmoved, dazed. Her hand reach towards her neck where the object has brushed and feels around it. She checks her hand,

"_Blood...how can...?"_ It doesn't take long for Triela to realize that a thin, invisible cut is drawn straight across her neck

"A few inches more and I could have brought you down..." Rachel sighs, "...lucky, lucky..."

Triela backs away a few steps as Rachel attempts to move closer; her left hand on her neck. The safety pins she wields gleams under the moonlight, howling for blood.

"We were given two options, Triela," Rachel start, "we were ordered to either capture you or kill you—all for the sake of the Agency. You know how many young lives in the Agency you risked?"

"The question then seems to be," Triela reply, "How many lives have the Agency _wasted_. We were nonetheless no different than test subjects; hopeless. Like a candle as it burns ever so slowly."

Rachel stops for a moment, her steps were cold, frozen. "Who fed you those...?"

"I learn it." Triela reply gathering her courage, "Through these passing months, Hillshire has shown me what life's like outside the Agency; how wonderful 'being alive' is. We planned on starting a new, innocent life."

"Bullshit!" Her words were like triggers of a time bomb. Rachel dashes forward, her pins ready at both hands as she wields it high before striking down on its target. Triela narrowly dodged it, scraping her shoulder in the process as she rolls towards an open path only to receive a long-range strike from Rachel's pin; thrown as knives. The sharp pin glides across the dark glasshouse as it brushes Triela's cheek before missing its target entirely. Triela wipes the blood and readies herself as Rachel charges towards her once again,

"Why can't you understand, Rachel...!? Why can't all of you leave us in PEACE?"

"It is our duty! We have limited choice! Like it or not, this is the Agency's ORDERS! You're putting the rest of _our_ lives on THE LINE FOR YOUR PERSONAL GAIN!"

"What don't you UNDERSTAND!?" Triela reply with voice full of agony, "I'm trying to _live_—to survive! I _want_ my life to CHANGE...!"

Rachel strikes with the tip of her weapon. The blade shrieks violently as it drives towards Triela, reminiscent to Pinocchio's knife attacks. Learning from her mistakes, with tear ridden eyes Triela dodges the attack in unison with grabbing Rachel's arm in the process and wields it like a sword; a graceful technique of self-defense. Using her body as a pivot, Triela lifts Rachel using her force as its driving power before being thrown to the ground, violently scraping her skin and smashing her lungs. She writhes in pain momentarily before regaining her balance and fix her combat stance. Rachel stares deeply into Triela's teary eyes, lungs deflating at every moment of exhaustion.

"That is what's impossible! The Agency never granted us choices and..."

"We _ALWAYS_ have the choice, Rachel! Always...!" she slowly starts to sob, "...we just never took them. Never attempted or grasp them..."

Rachel felt a sudden rush of emotions running through her veins as she watch her target in tears. She held her stance fierce, ready for any moves Triela would attempt. Pushed to her limits, both girls were at the brink of exhaustion and pain yet none of them wished to give out. The moon shines before them, bathing the field and its battered surroundings with light. Rachel adjusts her stance as Triela stood still...

"Please, Rachel..." she starts, "Please...don't stop me."

"I'm sorry, Triela. I'm sorry it has to end like this..."

With her battered figure, Triela looks up towards her opponent across her, "I'm sorry..."

##

With one last charge, Triela rushes towards Rachel; fists clenched. One of Rachel's 6 inch safety pins became Triela's last resort offensive weapon as she scavenge it along her last charge. With her stance ready, Rachel waits patiently for the right time to strike; the right time to stab the pin in hopes of ending this small undeclared war between them. As both blades drawn, clashes of metal strings continuously like a dance, choreographed to perfection. Triela strikes Rachel's shoulder, resulting a calculated block by her opponent using superb control over her weapon. As if wielding her safety pin like her old bayonet, Triela slashes across Rachel's chest and managed to knock one of her pins from her left hand. A stalemate was drawn, a vicious close quarter battle ensues between them before finally, with superiority of skills and self-defense...

Rachel knocks Triela's weapon out of her hand.

The young girl plunge her weapon's tip deep, targeting Triela's vulnerable chest, "I'm sorry I have to do this Triela!"

Everything seemingly slowed down for both girls, as if time suddenly captured the moment; the turning point of the battle. Rachel's fast, accurate blade against Triela's self. The outcome of the battle is clear. Triela's new mechanical body isn't meant for combat, yet was forced to serve her that night unlike Rachel's mechanical body. Her blade howls one last time as it pierced through her outfit before ripping through her skin creating a scar on Triela's left arm.

Triela, through combat experience, prowess, and training side-stepped the deathly attempt. For once she was thankful of Pinocchio, the young man she faced once in her old days. His stance, his combat attitude, his agility—it was grace in the form of combat; a technique she tried to defeat, and won. With Rachel's arm stretched before her, Triela grabs her opponent's exposed right wrist, clutching it tightly with her right before landing a light punch with her left to Rachel's stomach. With the small opening provided, the elder gunslinger girl threw her to the path before her using Rachel's own force. The young gunslinger girl stumbles on the granite floor and scrapes her knee and arm in the process. Provided with the chance, Triela make haste towards the exit as Rachel recovers from her fall.

##

The rush of the night air greets Triela as she dashes away from the _Große Tropenhaus_ towards the nearest escape: the south exit. Although chances are slim, she hoped to find a late buss to pass. The ricochet of a bullet alerted her that she was still in hostile ground. Fernando wasn't far off, his weapon drawn and ready as the barrel of the suppressor gleams under the moonlight. Shots were fired as Triela makes her final dash towards the south exit. The recovered Rachel soon leaves the _Große Tropenhaus_, rendezvousing with Fernando before returning to pursuit Triela as she makes haste. Her previous knowledge of the area grants Triela the ability to mislead both Fernando and Rachel, but with time pressing against her attempts was made short. With her remaining power she left the _Botanischer Garten_ via the south exit with Rachel and Fernando still hot in pursuit. It was a late night bus that saved her. Luck was on her side that night, granting her the chance to escape.  
Despite the attention she obtained from the bus driver and late night passengers, Triela kept herself cool as she urge the driver to drive and ask to drop her near the _Rathaus Steglitz_ U-Bahn station. As the bus speeds away leaving Rachel and Fernando, Triela sighs with relief as she took her seat.

"Are you ok, _fraulein_?" ask one curious passenger sitting across her. Triela returns her question with a smile, "I'm fine. Thank you..."

"You look like you just had a bad day...what happened?"

"It's a long story..."

Triela return home much later at 9.50 PM to the surprise of Hillshire considering her battered look, scars, and the numerous bruises, wounds, and cuts she has. His first impression was a sexual harassment attempted by Roland who—countered with a displeased Triela—was dismissed. Triela gave him the appropriate explanation later that night after her bath while patching herself with a first-aid kit and a box of band-aids.

"I encountered Rachel and Fernando _fratello _team today." Hillshire's response was expected by Triela, yet she continues, "If they're here, then my guess would be the rest of the _fratello_ teams were here."

"That means we're left with little time then..."

"I think before that time comes," Triela sighs deeply, "We should be more cautious of our actions; nothing that would gain public attention. Hopefully, with time, the Agency would be forced to release us."

Frederick arrived near the _Botanischer Garten und Botanisches Museum_ minutes later after Triela's escape, followed with the rest of the team. There he found Rachel and Fernando, waiting patiently near the gate to the garden. Greeting them, he ask what had happened and about the conclusion of the battle,

"...she escaped." Rachel concluded.

"You look pretty much battered..."

"It's nothing Frederick, it's nothing..."

Aside from Rachel's escape, the rest of the operatives receive a little extra 'bad news'. Frederick did receive his jelly doughnuts, but it was literally squished with all the fillings spilled inside the packet. The ice cream Mina and Henrietta requested had melted, leaving them with cookies and cream flavored milk shake and others. What's left intact was the bag of Pringles Muffin ordered.

"That's why people," Muffin concludes, "Chips is a universal snack! Literally, it is indestructible and delicious!"

The operatives laugh, all with the exception of Rachel. Curious, Fernando asks, "Is there something troubling you?"

"No, not that it's very important..." she pauses, "...did the Agency ever grant us a choice...?"

"Excuse me?"

Rachel shook her head, "I want to tell you something once we return. There's something I feel needs discussing...I'm rather lost in thoughts right now..."

"Hey, Rachel...!"

Her attention was quickly divided between her father and the younger girl who called her. Pardoning the intrusion, she turns her attention to Muffin who had called her. "Yes?"

"If you happen to encounter Triela again..." secretly Muffin cocks her pistol from beneath her jacket, "Call us earlier—I've been dying for a confrontation against that traitor!"

That night marked the first engagement between friends. Both sides have exchanged emotions, feelings, and power. Once again, as if their little undeclared war never happened, silence returns to the slumbering city of Berlin as the night drew further. Emotions were stirred deep within both Rachel and Triela as they slumber to sleep, thinking, considering their decisions and the events unfolding before them. Rachel wished to believe what Triela told her during the battle, yet confusion conquers her mind and blinds her of reality before she slumbers to sleep. Triela wished never to encounter any of her dear friends from the Agency, as well as pulling her new friends at school into her problem.

One thing in common however, is that both sides knew the next engagement won't be far away...

**Author's Note**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GUNSLINGER GIRL, CHARACTER FERNANDO/RACHEL, MATTHEW/MUFFIN, BRANDON/MINA _FRATELLO_ TEAMS. THEY ARE RESPECTFULLY OWN BY ELFENMAGIX, WHATFACE, AND WEST NILE. **

**Frederick is the only OC I create. **

**Further, some changes or addition have been made to this chapter--one of which a scene where Triela converses with Roland. Advised to listen to Haruko Momoi's Let me Love You as you read the scene. Do note that its only up to the first chorus. Muffin's line has been added per-request from Whatface to give her a more serious look.**

**The battle has been initiated! **

**Don't forget, please R&R and leave your feedback! **


	10. Chapter 9: Mother

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 9: Mother**

"_Please, protect that child..." the woman said as she dies in his arms,_

"_I have entrusted my hope with that child..."_

The cry of an alarm clock awakens Triela from her slumber; deep breaths in between and eyes in tears. Silently she sobs before making her way to the shower. It was July 23rd, Wednesday; a day after Triela's last engagement with Rachel F., one of the operative assigned with their handler to hunt down Triela/Hillshire. Within the walls of the shower room, Triela continues to ponder about what Rachel said the other day—choices and whether they deserve it. Her dream about a woman who saved her also haunts her thoughts, connecting what Rachel said to the action of the woman.

"_Do we really have a choice...?" _she thought, _"Why am I alive to this day...? Why did she save me? Do I deserve to live? Do I really have a choice?"_

Hillshire's call from the kitchen interrupted her thoughts. Taking a nearby towel and wrapping it around her, Triela's mind continuously processes her array of thoughts. As if they were un-matching puzzle pieces literally scattered across the floor, missing the valuable piece to connect them. Her thoughts were scattered as she dresses herself for school, almost as if details and tidiness aren't that important.  
As the clock chime on 6.30AM, Triela packs her books and her lunch box provided by Hillshire. Upon leaving, she'd check the contents of her bag one last time before heading for the door, not forgetting a 'goodbye' for Hillshire.

"I'm leaving for school, ok?"

Hillshire turns his attention to his 'daughter', "Triela,"

His index finger points towards his chest, indirectly telling her of her untidiness "You left a button open."

"Oh..." quickly fixing her uniform, Triela blushes slightly before tidying. "Thanks."

"You look dazed today, is something the matter?"

Triela didn't answer, replying only by lowering her head to the sides.

"I'll pick you up after school, is that ok?"

"I-Its fine...really, I can take care of myself." She replies hesitantly, "Well, I don't mind...but I have afterschool basketball practice so you might have to wait a little longer."

Hillshire left a smile, "I close the bar today; there's an important matter I need to attend to—and I believe you should come too..."

Triela kept herself silent the entire time, her eyes runs to the floor beneath her; as if a child caught of her mistakes and is confronted with guilt and sorrow. She notices the change in Hillshire's eyes when he mentioned it; eyes reflecting regret. Triela can't help to wonder why, but decided not to touch the sensitive subject. Returning to reality, Triela takes a deep breath as her hand pushes the lever down. "I'll be leaving now."

"Take care."

##

Rachel was left wondering the next morning. Her encounter with Triela has brought her into the light, shedding some reality factor, opening her eyes. Her friends around her were left confused and worried upon recognizing the drastic change of character in a single night. Frederick had given up attempts to cheer her up with his jokes, while Muffin constantly offered her chips which were politely rejected. Henrietta and Mina tried a more 'girl' approach, but were too young to understand the complication she's facing. Fernando seems to be the only man that happens to understand his little goddaughter.

"What's up with your operative, Ferny?" ask Brandon after noticing the slight change of atmosphere between them, "I mean, I thought she's more cheerful than that..."

"I can't agree less with you, mate." Follow Matthew, "Kiddo' has been offering her chips since bloody sunrise! What's going on? She's almost in the brink of tears for having to be rejected like that..."

"If there is a problem, you can discuss with us, Fernando." As the team leader, Giuseppe is responsible for keeping them together. "Something you would like to discuss?"

"I'll tell you when the time is right." Fernando reply, "For now, I'll keep it between me and Rachel."

"Hey, Raych," starts Frederick still feeling uncomfortable with the situation "Cheer up okay? I mean, the second thing I hate to see is a girl in tears..."

"There's nothing for you to worry, Frederick." Rachel sighs, "Maybe I just need sometime alone..."

Frederick shrugs, "Well I can understand that. But you do know the rest of the team is verging here, right? Your encounter could prove..."

"That's the problem Frederick; it's the...never mind." Rachel cuts herself short, unwilling to explain any further

"Rachel...please smile! Where's your 1000 watt smile? You can have my chips...a-and I'll try not to lick the Pringles container clean like last time..."

"Muffin, it's nice of you to worry. I'm fine..."

"Bu-but..."

Rachel's hand gestures stops Muffin from continuing further. Her finger traces to Muffin's lips as she let out a smile. As insignificant it may be, relief fell upon the rest of the junior operatives for Rachel's short recovery. "Really now, it's a waste to shed tears for someone like me."

"Hey, what makes you say that?" Frederick replies with a grin, "We're all friends, right? No matter the circumstances we'll always by your side."

"Yeah..."

The operatives begun huddling together, arms stretched as they embrace. Rachel felt content of her friend's reaction despite the raging storm of mixed emotions within her. She was mostly unsure and confused; has Triela been right all along? As time ticks away, Rachel knew both she and her handler Fernando would have to face a difficult decision that could jeopardize the lives of those dear to her.

##

Word of the encounter spread quickly to the Agency and soon to the field operatives. Primarily, it confirms the presence of Triela in Berlin, leading to the largest mobilization initiated by the Agency begun in hours as _fratello _groups sent across Germany were immediately reassigned to Berlin where they will further their search.

"Seriously though, I never actually thought of going outside Italy!"

"At least this is better than having to be locked under the Agency's dorm!" The two giggled nonchalantly

The third group sent by the Agency is the smallest compare to the other four, where three to four _fratello_ teams were integrated into one. Group three consists of two—and only two—_fratello_ team. Laine/Clayland Stanaway team was assigned with Petrushka/Alessandro Ricci _fratello_, creating a concentrated espionage team capable of blending with the public without arousing unwanted attention. Both Laine and Petrushka, under the Clayland and Alessandro's cooperation were solely responsible of eliminating all Padania in Western Rome in one of the Agency's early attempts considering the manhunt.

"But seriously though, I am looking forward to this mission—it'll be a good test of skill!"

The girl with the crescent-shaped earring and dark sunglasses grins,

Laine is an extrovert individual possessing a constant shift in her moody temperament ranging from an antagonistic character to a mischievous girl of her age. On missions, she is known to have constantly disregarded her handler's order—much less follows it to perfection unless the order itself amuses her or she is in a particularly good mood. The 16 year old has a penchant and a collection for sunglasses, a natural talent in tennis despite how she despises it, a good motivation and an all sociable character towards her fellow operatives.  
Clayland is Laine's handler. Once before the Agency recruited him, he was an Immigration and Custom Enforcement agent for two years. One distinctive feature about him is the scar visible on his back, once caused by a vehicle accident. He has a tendency to chew on pens when frustrated or bored. Clayland and Laine operate in many ways and are regarded as an excellent assassination unit. Their recent mission in a casino raises the Agency's expectations.

"I heard Nero and Wendy are picking us up..."

"Should be,"

Petrushka and Alessandro Ricci were the team leader of group 3. Petrushka is among the first Generation 2 operatives serving the same purpose as the previous Generation 1. There are rumors circulating around the Agency considering Alessandro and Petrushka's relationship, unbeknownst to Lorenzo and the rest of the SWA's higher ups. It is, however, a well-known rumor around the operatives.

"Ah! There they are...!"

The ray of the morning sun passes through the open doors of the train station. Standing in between one of them, a young boy and a female handler waits patiently as team 3 makes its way to the exit. The boy continuously cusses on how and why did he took part in this, cursing politicians alike. However, his attitude changes quickly; as quick as his cusses and cynical remarks on politicians the moment the two girls and their handlers greet them.

"I'll be going somewhere today," Frederick told his other teammate, "I have a small business I have to attend while I'm here..."

"Hey, hey...! If you're going somewhere then we're coming too!" Muffin reply, "It's boring to stay here all day..."

"I don't mind, really. But you guys better are patient later. I don't want to hear any complaints."

Rachel raises an eyebrow, "Specifically, just what do you intend to do?"

"Something I should've done a few days ago..."

The young operatives wonder curiously at the sight of the boy. His head lowered, his gaze directs to the floor and he breath ever so slowly. Muffin wanted to express her remarks for good fun sake, but decided not to upon understanding slowly what he is feeling. Frederick returns to his room before, moments later, back with a bouquet of lilies.

"If you're coming, then get your stuff ready—no firearms, please. I'll tell the handlers I'll be watching you guys."

##

The echoing sounds of rubber shoes against the wooden floor of the gym surrounds her. She's tired, drained from her stamina and yet she enjoyed every moment of it. She proudly wears her team's jersey as she dribbles the orange ball across the wooden floor, maneuvering away from her friends, taking the shot. The ring hangs high and the clock ticks as she takes her stance; balance, elbow, eyes and follow through. The ball shots high and bounces the left tip of the square box before running down the basket.

"That's a two point! Nice shot Triela!"

"Thanks coach!" She reply before taking a quick drink, "Couldn't have done it better!"

The coach grins, "Well, that's enough for today. Everyone, you are free to leave; be sure to practice at your own time!"

The flock of students exiting the school campus has become a part of her. It was a moving sight for her as each day hundreds left the building exhausted, but happy. They're here to learn to determine a future of a nation or a change in the world. A sudden surge of happiness befell upon the girl as she glides down the staircase. These people were the reason they were plunged into combat, she thought; a reason why the unfortunate ones were pitted against terror. She thought it is ironic how one day these fortunate sons/daughters could be the very people that threaten global security.

A tap on her shoulder pulls her out of her thoughts abruptly, turning her attention to the figure behind her. "Roland?"

The German boy who goes by the name Roland is reminiscent of Frederick. Triela could give the exact same description with the exception of Roland's hair color and Frederick's love for military history. "Spacing out in the middle of the day...?"

"Oh, no...Not at all..." Triela reply, "I'm just waiting for someone, that's all."

"Watch it Triela! He had his eyes on you since God-knows-when!"

"Shut it Maria!"

Roland sighs, his hand on his face. "What is it with women these days...?"

"For us girls to know, and boys to figure...!" Triela grins respectively, "So anyway, are there something you want to tell me?"

Roland scratches his head, "Other than a question about where you got all those scars, your old man told me to tell you to hurry; he's waiting by the gate."

Triela thank Roland, giving a brief smile before she runs off towards the main gate. Slowly she recognizes the steady change growing within her as she took up this new life. She felt a slight tinge of happiness painted within her whenever she was around her new friends. Roland, however, made her feel different. Every time she was around him, she notices the change of attitude within the boy; Roland is loud in class, high spirited, and would most likely be engaged towards European Economic history and its Asian counterparts. She learned from her friends not to talk about history in the face of Roland as he will not stop jabbering about all those facts considering the change in economic and its struggle in history; especially about the birth of Soviet Russia towards its downfall. Roland just can't seem to get enough of it.

That wasn't the case when he is around her,

Triela notice how he would broaden his discussion topics when he's around her. His tendency to run into a history debate would shift entirely into more of public knowledge and secretly, Triela admits he knows quite a lot of things happening around him. Somehow each passing day the butterfly inside of her flutters violently—with or without the presence of Roland; it was the similar feeling she had when Frederick was with her in the old days. Sad for her, reality is against her. The thought of starting a relationship with Roland is near impossible as she couldn't make a memory out of the relationships. That, and the fact the Agency is still after her. She could never let anyone outside her jurisdiction caught within her struggle from her past.

"I'm here Hillshire. What's going on?"

Hillshire didn't faze. "Let's go. I'll tell you what's happening today when we're there."

##

The still lake and the quiet atmosphere greet the young operatives as they enter the land. Frederick kept himself silent, carrying the bouquet of lilies as they open the gate to _Friedhof Heerstraße_. Upon entering, a sign that reads '_Bitte Tür schliessen! Wildschweingefahr_' were meant as a warning written in German. Mina tried asking Frederick what it meant, but the German kept himself silent. Mystified, Muffin began complaining on why Frederick acts in such a way. Her answer came moments later.

"Stay here," Frederick said as he separates himself from the group. "I'll be back soon."

"You better hurry!" Rachel reply, "We were supposed to rendezvous with the handlers in Templehof airport to Marco and Claes up!"

"I know."

Muffin crosses her arms and hisses, "What's with you today anyway? You can talk 'wise' earlier this morning, what happen now? What's with the flowers anyway? Are you planning on meeting someone for a date here? The lake seems to be a great place for a picnic!"

Frederick kept himself silent, returning Muffin's remarks with a peaceful glare.

"...whatever, go do your thing!"

The boy soon disappeared from their sight as he walk further into the forest. The others wondered where and why did he decided to leave them by the entrance. Out of their curiosity, the younger operatives decide to follow Frederick under Rachel's lead and Henrietta's innocent suggestion. They soon spot him in the distance, standing silently over a stone as he laid the bouquet. By this time, they realized where they are and reasons why Frederick was so silent.

"A cemetery..."

"You got that right Rachel..." Muffin sighs. "I guess this explains why..."

"Frederick you okay?" Mina asks as she tugs on Frederick's olive drab jacket "You look..."

"Sad?" he reply. "Don't worry. I'm fine..."

"The tombstone..." Henrietta pauses, "This is…"

"It's the grave of my family." Frederick sighs. "That day supposedly is the end of my life. Bullets whizzing up my head, my sister clenching my sweaty hand, the fallen bodies of individuals followed with the exploding grenades across Piazza di Spagna. You were there, Henrietta; you know how it looks like. The butchery, the chaos…"

Henrietta nods as turns to his the rest of the operatives,

"But I cheated death. That day you came and saw my writhing body, battered in the aftermath amongst the dead. I survived the slaughter." He sighs. "Triela saved a bullet for me that day; a pity shot to end my dying life."

"But she spared you."

"Correct. She made a choice; a choice to save me." Frederick turns to Rachel. "That's why Rachel, you too have the choice. It's just how we approach it that differ us from each other."

The young girl smiles in response. The wind blew her hair as it breezes its way to the lake where it is cooler. Frederick stands still watching the three tombstones as he recollects his memoirs. Out in the distance, he watches a young girl cried in the arms of her father—possibly recalling the memory of her love one who has passed on. Silently, Frederick gestures the rest of the operatives to leave the burial site.

##

Triela cries and cries. Just minutes ago, Hillshire opened up to her almost everything he thinks she should know. Once he told her supposedly place of origin, then Mario once told her the story of how she came to be. Today, she has the chance to visit the grave of the one who saved her life that night in the snuff studio. Here in _Friedhof Heerstraße _she lays, sound asleep as the wind touches her grave while the young girl weeps in the arms of her 'father'. It was a story Hillshire kept for a long time, waiting for the right moment to tell her and—possibly—take her to see the grave.  
Upon reaching her grave, Triela felt a sudden rush of sadness, of grief as she stood there in place of her. Hillshire recall what happened that night when they first met the battered young girl, victim of child abuse in a snuff film set. Despite his persistency to wait for backup, the woman insisted despite her wound and saved her. In an exchange of life, the girl was saved.

"'Please, protect that child', she said..." Hillshire takes a deep breath and sighs. "I have entrusted my hope with that child."

Triela continues to cry; her arms embracing Hillshire as she listens to her former handler.

"That moment she sigh her last breath in exchange of yours. To this day I have kept my promise; that's why I decided to desert the Agency."

Triela tries to reply under the waves of sadness and tears that she experiences. She tries, but is unable to express any form of word. Only one came out of her shaky lips. "...w-why...?"

Hillshire didn't answer, his hand caressing the guilt-ridden Triela. He understands how she felt knowing that she was the cause of her sacrifice; the feeling of guilt that was buried deep within unbeknownst to her. Since then, it was the first time this feeling ever brought up to face her. "...w-why did she decide to do so...?"

Triela cries even harder. "Why did she d-decide to...to...save someone she never met before! Why is it me? Why did she save someone so ungrateful like me...! W-why...?"

The young girl buries her face in the man's chest, soaking his shirt with tears. "...I-I know I should be thanking her...b-but I just...I-I can't! I-I don't deserve this...!"

Hillshire pats the girl's head. "Grace."

"W-what...?"

"It's the same as what God has given us; grace. She faced two choices that day to either save herself or you. She decided to save you."

"B-but why...?"

"Love, I suppose. Her dedication to her job as a doctor brought her to see the cruelty of the world. That day, I believe she felt the need of saving you; she entrusted you with her hope. It was love..."

Triela held still, keeping herself silent for a moment. "I-I'm sorry for h...how I acted towards my life...I-I'm sorry..."

Continuously, Triela chants the same words over and over: 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' Hillshire kept himself silent during the process, soaking her sadness as well as embracing his. It was his promise with her that made him realize; it was also his promise that drove his decision to desert the Agency and start a new life with the girl she saved that bloody night.  
Triela calms herself and releases herself from her embrace, turning to the grave. She kneels before tracing the letters and number carved on the cross-shaped stone with her finger, silently crying as she did so; she sobs as she reads it in her heart. It was carved in German:

_Here lies:  
Rachelle Bellot (1982-2006)  
A colleague, a friend, a family_

_through dedication of her job and duty, she  
fought and sacrificed her life to save the unfortunate  
young ones. You will always be remembered._

_"And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more  
in knowledge and all discernment.  
That you may approve the things that are excellent, that you may  
be sincere and without offense till the day of Christ."  
-Philippians 1: 9, 10_

_Rest in Peace_

"Thank you..." she said one last time. "Thank you..."

The cold wind ruffles her hair as she stands from her position and faces Hillshire while maintaining her view to the path beside him. She stops halfway after passing Hillshire, waiting for him to come and follow. Hillshire stands still, gazing towards the grave as the bouquet of flowers sways with the wind. He smiles as he said something inaudible to Triela's ears before he turns his attention to her, resting his hand to her shoulder and taps it a few times.

Triela turns her head away from where Hillshire's hand is. "Let's go."

The wind blows hard, carrying Triela's hair towards its direction as the two walk away from the grave. The memories of that day were etched deep in Triela's heart embracing her, loving her. Her figure remains in her dreams, now recognized as a woman she call 'mother' who has sacrificed so many yet obtained so few; a woman who exchanged her life for the girl who now stands tall and proud. Yes, mother is what she will be remembered deep in Triela's heart. Deep inside, Triela swore never to hold a gun again; never to risk her life again for being alive to this day is the greatest gift she received from her.

"Hillshire, Triela...is that you?"

The young girl hides her drenched face from the womanly figure as she greets them. The man, on the other hand, looks up with a mixed feeling of both surprise and happiness.

"Roberta Guelfi..."

**Author's Note:**

**Whew! 1/4th of the fiction done I think! Anyway, things will start to heat up from now on so don't leave your seats!**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**I do not own Gunslinger Girl. Character Fernando/Rachel, Matthew/Muffin, Brandon/Mina, Clayland/Laine, Wendy/Nero respectfully belongs to ElfenMagix, Whatface, West Nile, rusty-spring and Probit Return.**

**Frederick H. Koch belongs to Panzer IV (me) and may not be used in such without permission from the authors. All characters above came with their author's permission**

**Please read and review!**


	11. Chapter 10: Intermission

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 10: Intermission**

The coin shines as sunlight reflects from the object as it flips over and over again by the young Israeli's talented hand. It glides through his fingers back and forth with relative ease; like a puppeteer commandeering its puppet. The boy sighs, tossing the coin up with his thumb before catching it with his left hand. The boy starts in Hebrew:

"Ehud, have you heard what's going on lately?"

The handler didn't respond before taking his seat. Between the two of them, Hebrew is their preferred language.

"If its Rachel's recent encounter, I have."

"Shouldn't we take action? I mean, we know they are gaining on them."

Ehud sighs. "Patience my boy; we're waiting for the opportunity. I believe Rachel and Fernando are having a 'talk' with their conscience; we will go there and have some coffee to discuss it."

Luke nods. "I'll contact Claes when she arrives and..."

"Luke..." his handler's voice stops the young Israeli in his tracks. "Do you know the consequences if we were to helped Triela now?"

"...yes sir." His reply is hesitant. "There is a possibility we would be fighting old 'friends'..."

"You know Claes will be involved."

He turns his head sideway hoping not to face the question. He clutches the coin hard, hesitant of his decision and his answer but managed to peep it nonetheless.

"...yes sir."

##

Triela watch as her 'father' converses openly with the young woman they met in _Friedhof Heerstraße_. She constantly shifts her eyes to the left and right, veering her focus towards anything outside their conversation. She recognized how close they were and how acquainted they were with one another. She didn't mind for the most part but felt a slight jealousy towards this young woman whom her 'father' could openly discuss without having the slightest feeling of shame. Yet she kept her composure and follows through to the end.

A phone call became her saving grace

The call was short but was clear of its purpose. Triela recognized the new things she face as she took up civilian life; her new cell phone being one of them, a gift from Hillshire after her enrollment to John F. Kennedy School. Through the course of her new life she met new friends; normal, to her standards as she do recognize the difference of power she held against them, but nonetheless they are no different from her. They were all human; teenagers growing, learning and interacting with one another and scurrying to find their purpose in life. She, too, had taken up the same path as them and is happy of her new life.

"Hillshire, Maria just called." She stated. "They wanted to take me somewhere for lunch; a class gathering, so to speak. I'll be going, ok?"

"Do you have enough money?"

"Of course I do. I save my lunch money for weeks in case of such event!"

She gathers her belongings, hastening her pace as the two continue to talk nonchalantly as if she was never there at the start. Their voice became inaudible with time as she moves further and further away before the sounds of the urban life takes over.

##

The little white fur-ball purrs as she is released from her small enclosure and up to her owner's caring arms. The little mischief is amongst the little things that gave joy to the young operatives in the Agency, taking the form of a kitten. Claes cuddles the little creature as it purrs softly and adjusts itself to her master's arm before kissing her face. The young operatives could never draw their attention away from the kitten despite their handler's objections.

"She's so cute...!" little Adrianna said as she strokes her fur. "Where'd you found her? I'd love to have a kitten too!"

Claes giggles. "I didn't found her, Adrie. She found me with the help of someone."

Adrianna giggles softly. "Luke, was it?"

"It must be Luke! I've heard about him from the others!"

"Well, that's right Rebecca..."

A grin runs through Rebecca's lips before she dances forward with glee, ahead of the others. Claes sighs of both happiness and discomfort as she takes the peaceful air that runs through her nozzles and her lungs. She felt something; something uncertain, unsure, undetermined. She knew something would go wrong because this is Triela they were after—her friend, her colleague. She never liked the idea of having been required to capture—or even eliminate—someone whom she had known for a very long time.

"So...how did she catch her interest towards the 'red-dot' Claes?" Anica ask as she held out a laser pointer towards a path ahead of them. Liora leaps out of Claes' arms and begins her attempt on pouncing the little 'red-dot'

"A-Anica! Don't turn that thing here!"

Anica redirects the pointer back towards Claes arms, allowing her to recapture the little feline and carry her in her arms

"Well, thank you. At least she didn't go too far..."

"So...how did she gain interest?"

"It's a long story; it was Triela's idea at first."

Anica nods. "Ah, so it was hers...interesting and very useful indeed—and creative too."

"It sure is."

Triela was her roommate and was her closest friend in the Social Welfare Agency. At times Triela would open up to her and express her feelings about her life despite knowing that Claes would rarely or even choose not to express hers, knowing she would normally play the listener. Most of the time she would give an opinion or a suggestion considering Triela's situation; she knows in and out what Triela is like and she held strongly not to use this advantage to forcefully strike her. It was Triela's idea of using a laser pointer to tease and play with Liora, the Agency's unofficial pet cat, and to tease other with the same method. They laugh and cry together and have been doing it since until Triela's decision to follow Hillshire to desert the SWA three months ago.

Now she felt everything she had earned would be shattered—her trust and her friendship.

"A moment later that white fur-ball would somehow explode into a ball of fluff..."

"I really don't want to see that happening Antonio..." Marco reply. "I really don't..."

"Hey, it's a just a little joke to ease the situation up, you know?"

Megumi sighs. "Sometimes too much of a something is bad for your health. Focus on what we're up against!"

Andrew chuckles.

"A good laugh wouldn't hurt sometime—nice try, though Antonio."

"There's Wesley, and there's you Andrew..." Antonio sighs before he, too, let out a chuckle. "At least you're better than Wesley to a large extent! That serious bastard..."

He pauses for a moment.

"Say, that's the walking chips-eating cake, right?" Antonio said as he points towards the group of children standing in the airport's outer gate. "It is them...!"

"Matthew wouldn't be pleased if he heard that joke from your mouth..." Marco comments. "...especially the girl you're making fun of heard that!"

"...although..." Megumi chuckles, "I would love to see her ripping you to bite-size pieces—just for fun's sake by the way."

"Lucky you you guys are on a different mission." Marco said. "I guess this is where we'll go our separate ways; good luck! If you found anything, contact us; I'll be joining team 2."

##

Aside from the atmosphere the operatives were having, the handlers face things differently. They received the orders clearly to recapture Triela and to eliminate all party involved with her—this indirectly meant Hillshire's termination. Emotions were stirred between them, but mostly were kept hidden away from each other's knowledge. It is something best to keep private; and should stay so until the time is right.

The _fratellos_ have begun to gather in Berlin for the purge towards Triela and Hillshire. Each of them was accompanied with mixed feelings, spawning from excitement, uncertainty, anger and excitement towards their new goal. The reunification meant the reorganization of the group in order for the SWA to easily maintain and control the progress of this on-going mission as funds were continuously generated. Group 2 and 4 were reorganized into one and were to search for Triela and Hillshire's whereabouts in West Berlin, while team 1 and 3 were reorganized and were to search for Triela and Hillshire in former East Berlin, widening their search radius.  
Days were strained as the search continues with little to no luck towards Triela and Hillshire's presence. Some handlers and operatives begun suspiciously believe Triela and Hillshire had left the country since and their search efforts were in vain. The Social Welfare Agency slowly begun to digress their effort on funding the _fratellos_ towards other teams still operating within Rome's vicinity as they, too, slowly believe that Triela and Hillshire had both successfully disappeared from their radar. Suggestions upon enrolling the young operatives to schools in Berlin were rejected, as doing so would expose their presence towards Triela and would involve a greater number of eye-witnesses towards the Italy's dirty use of children as assassins. Internationally, the SWA had kept its secret from the world of using children as child assassins and of the mechanical body once stolen under the nose of the world.

##

For Triela, things were turning for the better despite the fact Roberta Guelfi had decided to stay with them until her client's case in Germany resides. The case did end successfully, with victory achieved by the young attorney. She left them, but said to return some day if time provides. Hillshire would gladly receive her anytime she visit, but not for Triela. Each day during her stay Triela could feel the change happening within Hillshire during Roberta's visit—she knows. The way he talk, how he interact and how he work change when she was staying in. Her leave serves as a momentary break for her to reorganize and return to her life.  
School serves as a getaway for Triela as she slowly distances herself from Hillshire further and further. It serves a different atmosphere; a new and a friendly atmosphere than that what she receives at home and at her part-time job—Hillshire's bar. Her friends were exceptionally supportive towards her and by the year she will be graduating 11th grade and will be promoted to the 12th where it will serve as her last year. By that time, she prayed the Agency had given up on her.

Aside from her studies, she too had slowly recognized Roland's growing attraction towards her. She is, after all, one of the school's renowned female basketball players in Team A and it was not to her surprise that she found many of the males in her year level and below running for her and idolizing her despite her attempt to completely ignore them. Roland is a different case.  
Unlike the others, Roland gave a different vibe towards her; calm, friendly and reliable. It was his nature, possibly, or maybe due to his attraction and yet that is a question she constantly kept in her head. She knew clearly that she could never make a memory between them knowing how the SWA were still hunting her and she would regret herself to know that she had involved someone she never wished to be involved into the problem. Innocent were amongst the highest casualty rate in any battle as they receive the greatest toll the opposing could give; Frederick is an example. Triela could clearly remember how she held her M1897 shotgun to his face that day in an attempt to give him the 'mercy shot', and yet the Agency's intervention prevents her from doing so. Before long he joins the ranks of the child assassin where they once fought together, side by side. Roland made her feel the same way, and that she would never wish to see him involved with anything regarding her life.

A month passes with no signs of contact from both sides, a month of void.

The rain and the cool air greet the world of the coming winter. It was the 25th of September.

##

The former East Berlin was quieter as the dark cloud pours constantly. Not far from Checkpoint Charlie, Anna looks up to the sky as the rain poured down on her much to the amusement of the rest of the team. She smiles as the droplets splashes her; an eerie yet wicked smile much to the amusement of the others. The handlers decide to ignore her as she sunk into her own emotions. The operatives stare in confusion.

"What the hell's wrong with her?" Sophia asks. "Tch, generation 2s..."

Gewehr fixes his glasses. "At least she's more refined than how you react towards Frederi..."

A sudden jerk towards Gewehr's neck is her answer towards his remarks. Chocking him high, Sophia glares at the boy as he struggles to breathe; his right hand tries to reach her shoulder. Her grip hardens before slamming him helplessly to a wall.

"Listen to me you dimwit!" she barks. "No one mentions that fucking name in my face, understand? The moment I have the chance I will strike him down!"

She displays her superiority over the rest of the operatives with her action. Gewehr was eventually released to the ground with one swift move before Sophia eventually leaves with the call of her handler. He chokes and coughs from her grasp; his wrist-blade extends moments later after she left the scene.

"Damn..." he curses, but decides not to elaborate further. "I'll show her...if only I could do it quicker..."

The boy struggles to stand as the blade retracts to where it is concealed; the impact from Sophia's grasp and aggressive action leaves a memory of how superior 3rd Generations were. His body violently shakes out of control as he tries to fix his glasses, taking deep breaths in between.

"Damn bitch..." he curse, "...such a sensitive bastard are you...?"

Under the rain, Anna continuously stares at the sky.

"...The Earth..."

"Excuse me? Anna you said something...?"

"The Earth is thirsty..." she states. "...for blood!"

The rest of the operatives never have the clue about Anna's past. She was a mysterious one; a silent young one who rarely converses with the rest of the operatives despite her pride she constantly exhibits and her cool attitude during a mission. It was rather of a surprise for them to see her curious attraction towards the rain and her large killing intent she possess sometime.

"She could be a good girl once..." comment Laine as she stands beside Gewehr. "I mean, we did have talk together with Petrushaka and Rico—it's a girl thing, so you shouldn't have a clue."

"What do you mean...?"

"That girl..." Laine sighs. "...that girl feels different somehow from what she is comparing it to that day. As if she's someone else—someone you don't wish to interact with."

"A second personality...?"

"There's a huge possibility it might be." The older girl nods. "It could be triggered by the rain...whatever she had gone through, I believe it is not pretty."

Anna's laughter echoes moments later; laughter no one in the team could ever forget.

"Well, lucky us..." Laine continue, "The Agency had decided to pull us out. Padania has been working double-time since our leave, so there's a chance we'll return to Rome. Good luck! You'll be staying with her and Rico and Sophie for a very long time!"

"Lucky me..."

##

West Berlin receives the downpour similarly to the rest of the city that day preventing an all out search. Some operatives were operating outside, looking for any clues of Triela and/or Hillshire under the rain with photos of them shown to many—thousands showing no end or a clue leading to them. Group 2 and 4 received similar punishment to march in the rain shoving photos, but were soon returned to the hotel after Henrietta show signs of illness. Eventually the rest of the operatives from group 2 and 4 gathered in one room, waiting for the order to move again and continue their search. They do what they usually do to kill time: talk, tease, play board games, but most of all playing UNO

"UN..._AAAATCHOO!"_

"UNO Henrietta...!" Rachel smiles with glee. "Things are going great now!"

"T-that's not fair! I'm feeling unwell and you guys should show some mercy!"

"But you always dominate the game, Henrietta." Mina reply. "It's nice to gather here and..."

A red-dot glides across the deck of cards. The operatives wonder what it is before, with little expectation, a white kitten leap towards the center of the play-deck as it chases the dot vigorously. Claes slaps her head with her deck of UNO play cards as she watch her 'smuggled' pet dances in the center, chasing the mysterious red spot.

"Muffin...! Cut that out we're playing here!" Claes said towards the young girl in her restful position with a bag of chips strewn across her as she grabs a handful and devours them. A laser pointer is in her left hand. "Muffin ...!"

"Ok, ok! Wait lemme' run this somewhere...geez..."

The red-dot runs towards a girl.

"Hey, ahaha...stop it! Muffin please...!" Rachel giggles as the kitten prances around her lap.

Claes sighs, but smiles at the sight. "What am I gonna' do with all of you?"

The door to their room open, the operatives turn their attention towards the door. The boy, standing there with his full-gear strapped and his field grey trench coat covering his light grey shirt sighs. "I'll be going out for awhile; think I'm getting something for us to snack on—I need the air too."

"I don't think you should be going out right now Frederick." Claes reply. "It's raining and..."

"A little rain won't hurt. Besides, there's the U-Bahn—I can use it to get around Berlin. And hey, I need to take a good look around Berlin once in awhile; it has been sometime since I walk around this city."

Claes sighs. "Alright, but take care of yourself. Don't come to me and complain if you did catch a cold!"

"Don't worry! I can take care of myself just fine!"

##

Roberta Guelfi once again reenters Triela's life that day, having said she received the vacation she demanded for weeks. The doorbell to her apartment rang that morning around 6.57AM, a minute before Triela left the building. She was tired, exhausted, but is happy to see both Hillshire and Triela again, mentioning how she'd love a tour around Berlin with them. Triela left a minute earlier, knowing Hillshire would definitely took her in and would promised her a tour around Berlin. Triela however, couldn't care less of what Hillshire do.

"I'll be going now."

Triela slowly sees the need for her to be independent. With Roberta in her home, Hillshire didn't respond that day. She left without saying another word.

**Author's Note:**  
**Once again, here's a disclaimer:  
**

**I do not own Gunslinger Girl. Character Ehud/Luke, Wesley/Sophia, Brandon/Mina, Andrew/Anica, Clayland/Laine, Antonio/Adrianna, Rebecca/Megumi, Fernando/Rachel, Savyna respectfully belongs to Colonel Marksman, West Nile(s), rusty-spring, Probit Return, sasahara17, ElfenMagix and Triela.**

**Oh! Little white kitten Liora belongs to Colonel Marksman.****Frederick H. Koch, Klaus Falman/Anna Rutherford, Vato Falman/Gewehr Hess belongs to Panzer IV (me) and may not be used in such without permission from the authors. All characters above came with their author's permission**

**Please read and review!**


	12. Chapter 11: Regenschauer

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 11: **_**Regenschauer **_**(Rain Shower)**

The rain pours constantly through the day, bathing Berlin in a stream of steady downpour, cleansing the city of its wretched air, calming the heart of many. The cold air rushes through the lungs as darkness fell upon the land, marking the end of the day for Triela as she rushes up the stairs of her apartment. The downpour prevented her to return early from Maria's apartment after it grew wild that evening before it resides later at 7PM and, despite its continuous fall, the rain is more passable than before. The night drew colder as the rain intensifies further, yet keeping its constant rhythm.

It was late 9PM, September 25th

"Hillshire, I'm home..."

The living room was dim, with only a candle in the dry kitchen's counter against the darkness. Two dirty plates were on the sink.

"...Hillshire?"

Triela tip-toes further into her home, unsure of the situation—the stillness. There were sounds coming from Hillshire's bedroom.

The sounds grew louder and louder as she moves further into the darkness, dropping her school gear near the sofa as she approaches the room. The sounds became clearer and clearer; there were moans, grunts and sounds of immense pleasure. Her heart beats erratically, tensed from the atmosphere and partly unconvinced of what she heard as she lean on the door hoping everything was just her imagination. Her sweaty hand grasps the handle as curiosity took over. Silently, she turns the handle and slightly opens the door.  
There they were, man and woman at all its glory. Here she saw the two of them—Hillshire and Roberta —entangled, cuddling, kissing, caressing and making love. Her heart clenched as if a knife went through as a wave of emotions engulfed her, sending her to tears. It was the last thing she thought Hillshire would do; the least she would expect him to do. She silently retreats from the door even when the man notices the figure outside his room. She makes haste and ran outside towards the rain.

"Triela...!"

The droplets of water welcomes her as she rushes out of the place she call 'home'. Her mind was clouded with a mixture of uncertain feelings, unsure of how she was to react towards the situation. She was confused with her own feelings as she tries to run as far away as possible from her apartment, her home...

...from Hillshire

_It hurts being pierced in the chest  
But the lies still increases_

She kept running as far as her feet can carry her, far from her home. The voices around her were inaudible, words with no meanings—just voices as she ran further and further away as the rain covered her tears and her steady breath inhales the cold. She kept thinking about how it all began; how Hillshire decided to leave the Agency, how they spend their passing days together and how it all came to this.

_The sweet whispers of your voice  
Makes me can't stop thinking now and then_

She muttered words; words inaudible to those around her but herself. The downpour cloaked her tears with droplets of rain as she tries to seek those who did care for her, those who she called friends and those who she can trust and rely upon; constantly she mutters the name of her friends over and over as her sneakers soaks the rhythmic splashes from the puddles in the sidewalk—Maria, Helen, Johanna, Clara and Roland.

_My nights still feel uneasy even with you by my side  
Let me hear you as the closest one_

Her feet stopped near the U-Bahn station, both eager and unsure whether she should take the ride away from her home. Her tears continue to run as she look up to the sad sky, droplets of rain accompanies her in the silence that surrounds the area. There she stood, confused and unloved as the rain goes on and on.

_I forgave every wrong that you have done because I wanted to see your face  
When will the betrayer come home?_

"Triela...?" A familiar voice echoed behind her. Despite her tear-ridden eyes, she turns...

"Roland..."

_I'm afraid of falling in love with you  
I'm hurt by falling in love with you_

The boy whom she knows as 'Roland' stands quietly, a blue umbrella in his right hand. Unconsciously he jogs towards her and shelters her under his umbrella. Triela turns to hide her face, wishing for him not to see her in the state. Yet she knew he was there, sheltering her from the falling rain.

_We couldn't make it a memory  
I looked up at the bright sky but tears fell_

"Are you ok..?" ask Roland. Triela didn't budge from her position, but reply nonetheless.

"I-I'm fine..." she said. "I just...have a little trouble, that's all..."

The boy's left hand taps Triela's shoulder and forces a smile.

"If there is anything that troubles you, I'm here. I'll listen..."

A smile escapes Triela's lips as the rhythm of the rain surrounds them. She began to speak.

_The pain that remains in my heart  
With sunlight filtering through the trees, my memory sways_

Triela explains what had happened as Roland listens, guiding his umbrella under her. She openly expresses herself towards him, showing signs of disappointment, anger, and loneliness. It was as if he is the only one who understands the hardship she went through, the stress she faced and the only one who cared. Here he listens intently as she trusted him more than ever before.

_It was so bright that day  
Even now I still love you_

Triela concludes, reflecting back to where he came and noticed her. A smile forms under her lips as she relieves herself from the pain.

"What are you going to do after this?"

"I think I'll stay at Maria's house for awhile..."

Roland sighs. "I guess you'll be off then."

"Aren't you?"

"Soon..."

"Alright...thanks, Roland."

The girl stood silently, unmoved and unsure. A part of her wished to stay close to him, to reach and embrace him. Slowly she distances herself away from him as he stood silently, his umbrella gripped hard by his palm.

_If you look back to that lonely morning  
Where was the warmth of our intertwined fingers?_

Restrain. She held her feelings from bursting away and took control of her actions knowing of the consequences. The rain pours constantly, unrelenting, reflecting her feelings she had towards him. She was loved; she knew she was loved from how the boy acts towards her. He, too, was loved.

Triela turn her back towards him before walking away accompanied by the drizzling rain.

_I realized how lonely it was to be alone  
I closed my eyes so I could pretend I couldn't see it_

The boy trembles, his grip hardens, and his feelings unsure before eventually making up his mind.

"Triela!" He calls. Triela turns her attention towards him as he approaches her, looking him in the eye. He takes a deep breath and sighs.

"I-I don't know how long I have noticed this feeling, and I don't know how..." his word was cut short by his confusion. "...how it had lasted."

He looks to her in the eye in return, his heart beating fast. "Triela, I know this is not the right time, but I can't..."

"Roland..."

"I can't run away anymore. I can't run away from my feelings any further..."

"Please, no...You can't..."

"I love you."

_I want to love even if I'm not loved  
If I love you, I want you to love me too_

Slowly Triela took a step back, further and further, away from Roland as her feelings were overwhelmed with immense joy and complexities. She didn't know if it was right for her; she was afraid of going further.

"...I...I can't..."

Her emotions took over; her tears came running down as her answer was filled with regret. She took a step back and decided to run.

_My feelings are overflowing but I don't have a place to go  
My love is overflowing until I cannot move_

"Wait!"

Triela's run was stopped abruptly with Roland's hand grasping her left. Her struggle only strengthens Roland's grip as she continuously cry in her tears for him to let her go. He refused.

"Please Roland, y-you don't understand...!"

"I might not understand anything, Triela!" he reply. "But I don't care! I..."

"Please Roland stop this...! I don't want you to..."

"I don't care what they think! I don't care what will happen to me! All I know is that I have feelings for you and...and..."

Roland sighs, unable to express any words further. His grip loosens before his hand slip away from Triela's wrist as he stood there under his blue umbrella, silent and burdened, sharing the pain. Under the rain Triela stood still despite the absence of Roland's grip, her tears running and her emotions stirred.

"I'm sorry..." Roland said. He receives no reply. "I'm sorry..."

_I'm afraid of falling in love with you  
I'm hurt by falling in love with you_

Triela turns; her arms reach for the boy and clutch his shirt tight as she cries in his chest. "I'm sorry..."

She sobs. "I'm sorry Roland...I lied to you about my feelings and I..."

Her feelings took over, her emotions stirred. She clutches harder as she buries her face.

_We couldn't make it a memory  
I looked up at the bright sky but tears fell_

Her lip trembles. Her voice stutters as her emotion conquers her mind; she couldn't restrain it any further. She was loved...

_He_ was loved.

_I want to love even if I'm not loved  
If I love you, I want you to love me too_

The umbrella tumbles and the rain surround them and bless them. She was startled; his arms circling her and embracing her as the rain continue its steady rhythm. She didn't struggle.

"...Roland you're hurting me..." she reply, "...you're hurting me but I...I..."

Her arms finally reach around him and embrace him in return. They stood there unmoved, isolated and comforted as the rain blesses them. Here she stays; here she was loved.

_My feelings are overflowing but I don't have a place to go  
My love is overflowing until I cannot move_

They stood there undisturbed, understanding and sharing the pain. Roland's hand caresses her face as he wipes the tears off her as she caresses his. Slowly they pull themselves together...

"...I'm sorry..." Triela whisper, "I'm sorry..."

Among the shadows of the U-Bahn, Frederick silently walks away.

_I hope my wish of seeing you can come true..._

**Author's Note:**

**While you're reading this chapter, I strongly suggest you to listen to 'Namida no Riyuu' (****涙の理由****) by Kuribayashi Minami. It is also ****School Days****' 6****th**** Ending song. The **_**italic**_** text above is a translation of the song/verses of the song. **

**Thanks to Colonel Marksman and Sevis for editing this chapter! You have my gratitude**

**I do not own Gunslinger Girl. **

**Character Frederick H. Koch and Roland Adler belongs to Panzer IV (me)**


	13. Chapter 12: A Change of Heart

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 12: A Change of Heart **

A rush of cold air enters the main lobby of the hotel as the boy enters the vicinity of the building. Eyes immediately run to this figure as he hastens his pace. His boot generates a constant rhythm to his pace. He was soaking wet and cold due to the downpour, and yet the expression painted on his face cloaked the coldness as he disappears into the elevator.

There is coldness, yes, in his heart.

"Frederick! Welcome back..."

Eyes were centered towards him as he side-stepped the young operatives who were eager for his return. They were confused by this sudden change of attitude within him, the loss of personality to which they knew. The paces in his steps were different, and hi expression was new amongst the younger operatives. The handlers soon took notice of him as he enters their quarters.

"Something you need Frederick?" ask Giuseppe. Others soon took notice of him as well.

"I found where Triela is—and I believe I know where Hillshire is."

Gasps, followed with eyes running around towards whoever's close. Muffin drop the box of Pringles in her hand as whatever she stuffed in her mouth tumbles outward. Rachel froze, spilling the deck of UNO play cards as Henrietta who sat across her silently lowers her cards. Claes releases Liora as she scampers across the room, her mouth went agape. Outside the hotel, Luke, who was listening through the entire conversation with the use of a sapper, hurriedly drop his microphone and turn to his handler.

"Ehud!"

"I heard it too. Time is critical..."

A map of Berlin is strewn across the bed seconds later with Marco holding one end and Fernando the other. Giuseppe and Matthew watch closely as Frederick elaborates his findings and estimates, circling and marking sectors and blocks in Berlin before drawing a huge radius around an area. Matthew rests his hand on his chin, chuckling before Frederick's conclusion as Giuseppe contacts the other team. Across the line, Jean confirms Giuseppe's report and was soon moving to the location.

"I saw her in her school uniform, so this confirms our thoughts that she indeed went schooling." Frederick continues, "Considering Hillshire's savings and possible earnings, then I believe she'll be here—John F. Kennedy School."

"Aye, I knew we should've sent someone there to investigate about this..." Matthew comments. "It's rather simple actually..."

"We didn't know whether she was in school or not," Marco said in reply. "But this confirms it. Should we make our move? Giuseppe? Fernando?"

"Time is of the essence; we couldn't let the public be involved in this matter! We'll strike to catch her after school. Further actions will be taken if there are witnesses—authorization for the use of fire-arms is permitted. For now, if any of you have any last thoughts about this I suggest you spend your time outside with your operative around Berlin. Tomorrow we'll hit pay dirt."

##

Fernando kept himself silent through the entire discussion. By now, the rain ceased to exist, and the clouds began to fade away as the moon show its beauty to Europe. Beside him, Rachel walks silently. Within the two of them, thoughts conflict each other as they fight their consciousness on who to side. No words were spoken between them. It was not until a certain call—secured—from an individual with the same array of thoughts that they begun to speak.

"Good afternoon, Fernando. Taking a walk in the night?"

"Ehud..." Fernando reply. "How did you..."

"I want to discuss something with you—care if I treat you for a warm cup of coffee for tonight? There's a café not far from here. I'll meet you there."

"Coffee's bad for my health," Fernando ends the conversation. "But I don't mind. What do you think Rachel?"

"It's not such a bad idea. We could use a little coffee."

##

The lights were dimmed in the Preiss residence as two girls cuddle themselves under the warm blanket. Earlier that evening Roland came to visit Maria—Triela was beside him. The two of them were soaking wet and cold as they were invited by Maria and were treated with warm chocolates. Here he explains the situation of how she came to be and how she requests to stay in Preiss residence for awhile.

She accepts.

With so, Roland begins leaving Triela behind. She thanks him one last time, embracing him as he left the door. He returns her thank you with a kiss on her forehead. Eventually, he parts ways as she return inside. Maria waits patiently for Triela as she prepares an extra bed for her to rest. Borrowing Maria's clothes, Triela thank her again before snuggling herself into the provided blanket as she kill the lights. Silence soon fell into the dark room...

"...say, Maria?"

"Hmm...?"

Triela paused. "...thank you."

"No, it's ok—that's what friends are for, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Of course..." Maria shifts her figure to face Triela. She smiles gleefully, grinning with glee. "You should tell me what happen between you and Roland recently! I sense something is going on between you two!"

"M-Maria..." Triela laughs silently before eventually drifted into her thoughts. She blushes for a moment as she reminisce recent events. Here in Berlin, she swears once again:

"Goodbye Hillshire. Never will I return to our home again..."

Silently she cry to her sleep.

##

Fernando and Rachel sat down at a nearby café designated by Ehud earlier, ordering some pastry and coffee before deciding on the main course for later. The dim lighting of the café never bothered them as they read the list of menu available. Besides, Fernando have to agree Ehud picked quite an isolated location for a discussion—similar to an American diner back in the 1930s where Sicilian mafias would discuss their next hit.

"Order anything you like Raych, provided that they make it."

The menu was written in German with little English translation. Rachel browses, referencing to the picture constantly to get a hint on what it really is. The waiter arrives, a small notepad on his hand and a noticeable German-Austrian dialect is spoken. Finally, Rachel eyes the most familiar thing in the menu—a hamburger platter.

The waiter jots down the order, turning to Fernando after expecting an order to be made.

"I'll take the same thing, thank you."

"You can't read the menu either?"

"Not really. I just understand enough to order food. To us, that's a hamburger. To Germans, that's a sirloin steak done in the Hamburg Style. Hamburg is a city north side of Germany. It comes with a choice of gravy or sauces, salad, and I believe the Kaiser roll is separate."

"Like meatloaf."

"Yeah, almost like meat loaf minus the bread mixing in the meat."

They sit in silence. The waiter repeats the order in his language before leaving the two alone. The grandfather clock displayed at the edge of the café ticks as each second passes. The silence was deafening. Only the sounds of passing automobiles and the far horns of European cars accompany the two of them. Eventually, Rachel begins to speak:

"Father...?"

"Yes, Raych...?"

Rachel shifts her position, snuggling close to the window as her eyes watch the empty street. A lamp post lights a corner in the intersection. "I need to know...uhm..."

"You can say anything with me, you know that."

Rachel hesitates, but complies soon after. "I know that I am to follow your orders and all, but why did we have to go after Triela?"

Fernando sighs. "Agency's orders are Agency's orders. It's not something we can fight against. But she was to be taken alive if possible—although Hillshire is another matter."

"I'm just confused with the whole mission thing—it's just—it doesn't feel right hunting your own friend and forcefully take her freedom she had attained. I feel she's sincere and happy of her new life when I fought her. I don't see the point in this mission. It feels like we're chasing a civilian!"

"Rachel, remember what I told you," Fernando cuts Rachel's words. She tried to speak further, but Fernando stops her from doing so. "If I ever turn bad and..."

"...'start to do evil, take me down.'"

"Good."

"I don't think I can."

"You must," Fernando sighs. "So don't _think_, _do_."

Rachel lowers her head to the table. Silence once again envelopes the two of them. Fernando sighs heavily.

"...I don't have the intention on taking Hillshire down, Raych—just to let you know."

"Huh? But..."

Once again, Fernando stops her. "Yes, Agency's orders, I know. But I won't."

"Then what are you going to do? What am I going to do...?" she pause. "...what are we going to do?"

A hint of smile forms in Fernando's face. "Follow my lead. You know how my mind works."

"You have a plan?"

"Sort of; it's a half-baked one."

"I see—one of those?"

"Best laid plans of mice and men..."

Rachel leans against the window and faces Fernando. She smiles. "So what's your plan?"

Fernando began explaining the details of what he had in mind; a simple, yet lucrative plan. The objective is to help them escape the Agency's radar if things took for the worse for Triela and Hillshire after their capture. If the Agency will not compromise on dropping their charges towards Hillshire, Fernando devised a plan to liberate them from the Agency.

"It's an interesting plan—a bit undone if you ask."

Ehud and Luke arrived like a ghost, silent and unnoticed. Ehud stands tall beside Fernando, smiling at his presence while Luke walks beside him, alert and cautious as he watches his imaginary sphere. Luke takes his seat moments later, staying close to the window before Ehud takes his. A hand from Ehud is gestured towards Fernando where he receives it gladly shaking it while the young operatives greet each other in a friendly manner.

"It's better than nothing, Ehud. You have a better idea?"

Ehud sighs. "The problem of your plan is the Agency's reaction. The capture also is part of the problem."

"How so...?" Fernando leans closer to the table. "Tell me, Ehud."

The waiter returns moments later and hands the dishes ordered by the Fernando/Rachel fratello team earlier. Ehud and Luke take their order soon before sending the waiter away. Again, they return to their business.

"The Agency—from the start—has no intention on compromising Hillshire. That German was off the hook once before he entered service in the Agency; his protest against Triela's cybernetic implant to combat terrorists nearly cost him his head."

"So what are you thinking?"

"This operation serves as a valuable asset to the Agency. IF they can eliminate the Hillshire, they can assign a different handler to use her for their bidding. Hillshire's too soft, mind you, and I can't agree less. They need someone more—'aggressive' to fully expose Triela's capability."

Fernando slowly rests his fork and knife. "So you're saying they want him dead?"

"It is similar to Raballo's case—only in his case, Claes turns into something the Agency never expected."

"Emotionally attached."

"Exactly."

##

The night draws further, and further. Fernando points key points of what he thinks of the Agency as Ehud shares his. Originally, Ehud sees Fernando as a threat if he was ever pitted against him. Fernando was cunning, a liable ally if he was ever to take sides. He too, sees the same in Ehud as a mastermind, a tactician and a genius in manipulation. It wasn't until recently—due to Luke's presence with the rest of the operatives—did he notice Fernando and Rachel share the same idea considering the operation. The Agency's too attached, too obsessed to eliminate Hillshire rather than capture. It was Ehud who noticed these points, and it was Fernando who strengthens it.

"You know the plan, Fernando?"

"Crystal. Yours...?"

"I have mine covered, don't worry."

"Tomorrow, we'll hit dawn."

The night rides on as the two parted each other, returning to their hotels. The table of fate is turning and turning...

The day after, their action would determine the fate of Hillshire and Triela… _forever_.

**Author's Note:**

**OK, this is more of a chapter that will fill the further gap ahead. Once again I'll say that Gunslinger Girl doesn't belong to me. OCs presented here are registered to their respective authors, thank you!**


	14. Chapter 13: The Break of Dawn

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 13: The Break of Dawn**

The moon slowly fades away and disappears as the sun readies itself to brighten the slumbering city of Berlin. The street lights died out, individuals rushing early to their shops—butcher, book keeper, baker—everyone. The world runs completely normal in Berlin, unbeknownst to the public what had happened around them. In the break of dawn, the agents of the SWA prepare themselves for their final pursuit and take-down of the rogue _fratello_ team:

Triela and Hillshire

Bullets were loaded, weapons were checked and double checked, communications tested, and weapons stashed secretly in their operative's instrumental case. Hearts were beating fast, eyes lurk towards each other, prayers were said and a wish of luck is announced to everyone by each individual.

"Frederick, what are you doing?" Muffin asks as she equips her jacket. Out of all, Frederick is the last one to stash his weapon in his instrument case. "You know that our time is limited, right? We were to head to the school first and seize her."

"I know." He answers. "I've purchased a custom barrel and asked a gun-smith to customize a new silencer to be fitted with my _Sturmgewehr_. I'll be silencing my StG 44 from here on."

Frederick clicks the last piece of the rifle together. His hand reaches for the new silencer and slides it into the mouth of the rifle before locking it together with a slight twist to the left. The rifle gleams with the light of the room as he smiles, satisfied with the result.

"German-manufactured accessories never fail to impress me."

Muffin shoves the barrel away and cocks her G36C loudly in response. "This is German-engineered too!"

"Isn't that a little longer than usual, Frederick?" comments Claes. "The StG 44 isn't built with a silencer in the first place."

"Feels like the Russian AK-74 and its successors—with the barrel, I mean." Finally, Frederick stashes his weapon in his instrument case. "But nonetheless, it's still StG 44."

Claes sighs, taking off her glasses. "I guess this is it then..."

Curiously, Muffin glances at Claes' action before she decides to return her attention to he own preparation. A curve forms in Claes' lips. "Curious, Muffin?"

she nods silently in reply.

"I have my reasons, Muffin. I have my reasons..."

###

Time ticks as many waits for the break of dawn. For the majority, it symbolizes as a wake-up call to face a new day. For some, however, it determines the life or death of two as their fate now rests in each and everyone's responsible hands. Upon the doorstep of an apartment, a man and a young boy stood still as they face the entrance into the dwelling—both were distinctively to be of Israeli origin. The man knocks on the door once with no answer avail before attempting to do so again receiving the same reply. He soon proceeds to bang the door for a period of time.

Behind the door, Hillshire shudders as he felt time slowly slipping away from him. Has his escape attempt considered crude? That if he planned it longer and devised it with those who he could rely on would he be able to escape, leaving no tracks behind? If it relates with Childville or the CIA, it is something Hillshire felt well be avoided. His hands tremble as he grasps Roberta Guelfi tightly to his left, unable to face his fears of having to be dragged away by the Agency and possibly, executed.

"Hillshire...! Open up! It's me, Ehud!"

It was not until hearing his name did Hillshire felt relieved. He sighs, signaling Roberta to stay well-back incase anything unexpected should occur. He sighs, releasing his nervousness as he opens the door.

"Praise God you're still alive Hillshire! I was worried for a second you won't be here to see me!" Ehud rushes inside with Fernando, Luke, and Rachel trailing close behind. "You have to get out of here as soon as possible! The Agency now has..."

Ehud stops, recognizing the existence of Roberta who was seated in the sofa with only a blanket to cover. He too, realizes Hillshire's state. In a moment's notice he asks Luke to check Triela's room only to find him to return empty-handed, shaking his head confirming Ehud's worse fears.

"Where is Triela?"

Hillshire didn't answer. Ehud pushes Hillshire to the wall, glaring at him for his failure to respond. "I say again, Hillshire. Where _is_ Triela?"

"She left me..." Hillshire turns away. "She left me..."

###

The alarm clock rang, alerting the sleepless girls of the break of dawn, forcing them to drag themselves out of their bed. For a moment Triela was surprised to see a 'different' ceiling than what she used to in her apartment. Yet she came to realize what happened and thought that it was for the better of both of them.

"Morning Triela...!" greets Maria as she stretches out of bed. "So, how's the service?"

"It's great. Thank you Maria and sorry to have..."

"No, no it's ok! Everything's fine! I mean that's what friends are for, right?"

Triela nods silently.

"Good! So don't complain! Speaking of which, how are you dealing with the belongings left in your apartment? Some of them—I assume—were school-related, right? How are you getting them?"

Triela shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure myself. I'll try acquiring them when he's away; for now, can I borrow some of your...well..."

"...uniform? Books...? Notes...? Name it and I'll lend it. But just this once though!"

"Hail Mary, full of grace."

The girls let a friendly laughter escape their lips. Maria taps Triela's shoulder twice before walking towards the showers. "Don't start chanting 'the LORD's prayer' after this!"

###

The cold morning air in Berlin still smells of peace. The sun has just risen in the distance as the two girls left the house for the last time. None of them ever realize that this would be their last until it was all too late. They chatter gleefully as they walk to school, unaware of the unfolding situation. Roland came moments later and accompany the two to the school where they start their daily activity.

Matthew and Muffin followed them silently up to the entrance of the school.. Her eyes glared at the sight of her chatting, giggles and nudges towards her friends—not to mention Roland's hand circling Triela's shoulder. She was never interested in public life and all that it has to offer. Rather, she despised it, loathe it, hated it to what it had done to her in the past. Secretly they trailed her, listening to their conversation and uncover Triela's whereabouts. This should not go unreported.

"Jean, you read? This is Matthew."

Silence, then a voice echoes from the radio. _"This is Jean." _

"Secondary target is in sight entering John F. Kennedy school complex. Three civilians in sight with secondary target, their names as follows: Roland, Maria and Helen. Requesting orders to engage, sir?"

"_Negative. Wait for my command. I'll send Marco/Frederick/Claes team forward to rendezvous with you; Alessandro/Petrushka team is in the area and will act as your backup. Westley/Sophia team, the Falmans, Fernando/Rachel team and Ehud/Luke team will rendezvous with you later. For now, concentrate on keeping a low profile. Remember to leave no witnesses of her presence. Liquidation of said-company would be the task of the Westley/Sophia team and the Falmans."_

Muffin twitches, frustrated about knowing the conversation. She curses silently in her thoughts as she was looking forward to be the one to bag civilians.

_"Especially Triela's fucking boyfriend..."_

"Gotcha'..." Matthew cuts his connection. "You hear that kid?"

The young girl beside him clenches her fist. "Yeah...shit, we're this close and Jean doesn't want us to _engage_!?"

"Patience kiddo; we're not only up against Triela and Hillshire, but we're also facing the risk of provoking the German government."

"I know..." she paused. "If Nero heard this, I bet he'll say 'damn politics'."

It was not until noon did Fernando/Rachel team rush towards John F. Kennedy School after fulfilling Hillshire's last request. They couldn't help control the thought of how foolish he was, how reckless he is and how troublesome he became. Getting Roberta out of the picture is one thing, but to find—and save—Triela is another different matter they wish not to touch too vigorously. It had become a sensitive matter between the entire team for everyone—Operatives and handlers alike. Fernando and Ehud had envisioned this long before anyone else in the team had, that a rift between their relations would be formed as further situation unfolds. He knew he would face those he once called 'ally' and those he called friends.

Rachel is no exception.

The truth is sometimes hard to swallow. She recognizes the faces who were sent with her to capture Triela; faces which she could remember, cherish, talk about, laugh about and dream about. The order had internally crushed her when it was first issued. She was unsure at first whether to trust the words of the Agency considering her escape. And so she and Fernando complied. It was not until her fateful encounter with Triela did she slowly began to envision the works of Triela's mind. Triela _never_ wanted freedom, but indeed she was granted with it as a form of a gift from Hillshire. A gift that could pave her long forgotten future and dreams they had neglected, ones that were prevented to grow and mature in the Social Welfare Agency. She began to see how Hillshire would do anything for her operative to keep her right—like a father.

"_Just like daddy and I..."_ she thought. Her heart race faster, finally concluding her decisions as she smiles in relief. _"That's right. I had never felt this pleased with me before."_

_###  
_

Ehud was impatient and was utterly infuriated with Hillshire for his lack of responsibility. 'This is the man who we revered as a father-figure', he thought during the hour where he confronted him. He was amazed and yet angered his show of weakness and desperation when he slammed him to the wall demanding Triela's presence and was even more heated when Hillshire have not a single clue to where she is. All he said was how she left him the night earlier.

The tapped call from Jean and Matthew answered them—along with their worst fears.

Ehud eventually proposed one last desperate attempt to save them and led them out to the freedom they have longed for. He sends Fernando/Rachel to dash for the school before the Agency captures her as he stand guard in Hillshire's apartment in an attempt to buy more time for him to pack what he could. He could say he was impressed by his last-minute responsibility, however. In the last minute before Fernando left the apartment, Hillshire ask one last time to 'escort' Roberta to safety from the jaws of the Agency. Fernando agreed and left with her—dressed up and ready—minutes later. Now, Hillshire was left in his apartment with Ehud and Luke standing close.

Ehud can't help to feel how disgusted he was at this pitiful sight.

"Sitting still?"

Hillshire didn't respond.

"Sulking here is not going to bring you anywhere Hillshire." He turns to Luke. "Luke, fetch him a glass of water and..."

"Ehud, please..."

The Israeli halts his action and return his attention to the German. "Whatever happens, please...keep Triela safe."

Luke sighs. "Apologies for my impoliteness Mr. Hartmann, but keeping your butt in that chair all day will not bring you anywhere.."

"You have been hoping for us to be of aid to you, have you not?" The word of the elderly Israeli rumbles across the room. He storms towards Hillshire, lifting him up his collar and glares deep into his eyes. There were signs of anger and disgust laid between his looks. "Since when have you become this pitiful Hillshire?"

He didn't answer. Ehud strikes further. "ANSWER ME HILLSHIRE!!"

"I'm sorry." He said. "I had never thought I could wound her deep before..."

"You are not answering the question, Hillshire."

Hillshire returns Ehud's glare with his. He pushes the Israeli away from him, taking a deep breath and sighing deeply. "I'm responsible for all of this, Ehud and I apologize for having to drag you and Fernando into this. I was never hoping the Agency would send this many effort for me—for us, but yet I was expecting they would do so."

"Of course they would." Reply the elder Israeli sternly. "They would not let one of their multi-billion dollar project run loose without compensation. They are here to take her back and kill you—as they tried once before you join the Agency."

Ehud sighs as he began to walk back and forth across the room.

"Although I have to say I am impressed at how far you're willing to take risks in order to fulfill your promise."

"How did you..."

"Finding this place is not easy, but reading you is easier. I read your dossiers, Hillshire. I know what the Agency thinks of you, how they feel _you_ are the most dangerous of handlers in terms of relationship and bonds between you and your operatives. Do you know why the Agency sent you to some of the toughest missions available? Simple question requires simple answers. They are not stopping there after understanding your durability Hillshire. If need be, they will use those who you can not harm."

"My colleagues..."

"You catch on quick. You are a good man, Hillshire—a _good_ man. I admire you to some extent. So, what shall it be??"

Hillshire takes a deep breath and sighs. "Ehud, this is one last favor. Go to the school I told Fernando and Rachel about and find Triela. As of this moment I believe the Agency has located her—and I dare say she is in more danger than I am. Please, find her. I'll rendezvous with you in Templehoff airport as you've planned."

"Need a gun?"

"I could use a pistol, thank you."

From under his garments, Ehud draws a USP .45 and tosses it towards the German. Catching it in the air, Hillshire examines the pistol the moment it is in his hands. "How'd you get the P8 model?"

"Glad you are familiar with the pistol." He replies, grinning in the process. "Simple. I have contacts in the Bundeswehr as well as other world military."

"I appreciate your help, Ehud."

"Hillshire," Ehud took a deep breath and placed his left hand on Hillshire's shoulder. "My nation of Israel was everything to me. My patriotism for my homeland is ten times that I have seen in Russia. She left me." He moves his hand back and places it in his jacket's pocket. "But I did not give up. I looked for her friends."

"Friends..." Hillshire sighs. "I feel like that 'word' has no meaning at all these days..."

"My dedication to Israel allowed her to open her arms back open. I might not seem like the type of man who has great joy, but that moment was second or third to all that I have seen in my life."

###

The school bell echoes across the halls and corridors, marking the end of the day. Students of all ages began scrambling out of their respective classes and were leaving the building while some decided to stay behind due to their scheduled afterschool routine involving class sweeps and late announcements while others were there to accompany those who stayed behind.

The sky roars as dark clouds began moving above Berlin.

It was late, yet it was what Triela wanted all along. Her uniform never bothered her as she pick up an orange basketball from its rack before moving into the court; shooting, dribbling and practicing. The screeching sound of rubber her shoe creates as she slide across her performing stage were sometimes music to her ears as she recall the day where she participated in the recent tournament, leading her team to victory; little do her friends know where she acquired such agility and endurance.

The sole screeches were soon accompanied by a series of repetitive footsteps dashing towards her.

"Triela! Triela...!!"

Turning her focus away from the ring, Triela finds an overjoyed Maria who immediately embraces her. Triela clearly recognized what she has in her left arm: a university letter.

"I'm accepted at Harvard Triela! I'm accepted!"

"Congratulations!"

"I can't believe it!" Maria began to shed tears. "All these years of hard work finally paid off...I-I can't describe this in words!"

"Well, you better tell your parents about it."

"You're right! I'm going home now—I'll see you later!"

Triela sighs as she watches her friend leave the gym. It had been something Maria had hoped and worked for, something she deserved. Sometimes, it was these that kept her questioning whether she deserves this freedom she has. It was not until later did she realize how precious freedom is.

###

Thirty minutes pass Maria's leave from school. Thirty minutes. The skies began to drizzle fifteen minutes earlier and had since bathe Berlin. Roland ran through the drizzling shower as he makes his past towards Maria's house. Earlier that afternoon Roland had promised them assistance considering their recent history report and would gladly visit the girls in the Preiss residence. The small, comforting drizzle never bothered him as he slowly—almost enjoying—open the door that led to her house. It was not a surprise for him to find the door unlocked; he knew they were expecting him.

What he never expected was the sight he was to face.

She was strewn across the floor, covered in a pool of red. Maria. Around her were holes bearing diameter of 1cm; a single cylindrical copper casing gleams as it is tainted with blood. Roland fell on his knees, stunned, shocked. The feeling of death creeps to his spine as he struggles for the hinges of the door in an attempt to find escape; his means was halted when he noticed a twitch from the strewn body.

"M-Maria...!" He stumbles forward. His hand reaches for her and lifts her to his knees. It was soaked blood red. "H-hey Maria...! Y-you're ok...?"

The girl he held in his arms shivers. The same circular mark left on the wall was present in her back. She struggles to speak. "...R...Ro..."

"Don't force yourself. What's going on? How did...?"

"...Liquidation..."

"...W-what...?"

"T-Triela..." she coughs to free herself from drowning of her own blood before taking heavy breaths after to complement her dying self. "...she...danger...l-liquidation..."

Her lips tremble. Her hand slowly rises, gesturing him to the living room. "...g-gun...rack near glass door...3rd drawer...top..."

A ruckus echoed from the second floor. Cautiously Roland turns his attention towards the stairs leading up, taking heavy breaths in between. Seconds later a moment of silence befell across the entire house with little sounds of collapsing objects here and there, along with barking of dogs from outside the resident. With all she could, Maria reaches for Roland's collar, clutching it hard.

"S-save yourself..."

Trembling, Roland lowers Maria to the ground before hurriedly creep to the living room and locate the mentioned 'rack'. The gun, a P230, was hidden way back in the drawer behind the books. Ravaging further, 4 extra magazines were found within the rest of the drawers. Taking all he could, Roland unlatches the safety and loads the pistol. The 'click' was somewhat comforting to him.

The 'click', too, was enough to draw attention for the uninvited.

"Someone's still here! Find and liquidate him!"

In last second's notice, Roland escapes the madhouse using the sliding glass door. He swore he saw a girl not older than he is wielding two MP5Ks followed with a boy of the same age wielding a Desert Eagle. Roland swore in German as he left the area in a hurry, stating the world has gone insane.

"_The school...I must return now!" _He thought to himself as he makes a dash away from the neighborhood. _"Insane, insane...! Everything is crazy! Maria...FUCK! What the hell am I doing? Running away?? Mother fu—Triela. Triela...Goddamn it I hope you're ok!" _

_###  
_

Back in Preiss' residence, Maria rests to her fate as she mutters words only audible to her. She mutters about her father, her childhood, her days, her dreams...everything she could think of as footsteps were getting louder and louder. A 'click' followed soon after.

"Huh...still alive?" ask the girl presumably of Norwegian nationality. A silenced M1951 Beretta is clutched in her right hand; finger in the trigger. "I knew they couldn't be count on. They can't even take one pitiful life such as you."

Using her boot, she presses upon Maria's neck before aiming her pistol to her temple. She smiles in delight, watching her victim devours her last moment. "No hard feelings girl."

Maria returns her gaze with hers. She breathes slowly as she mentally accepts her fate, letting her stream of consciousness runs through her one last time; shedding one last tear.

"_So many things have happened." _She thought as she faces the mouth of the barrel. _"I met many, made good friends, have dreams...Harvard seem like a nice University to study." _

She pauses. A mix of sweat and blood trickles down her cheek.

"_I grew up, mature, love and be loved." _She pauses. _"Triela...the moment I met you I knew you're special. There are certain conspicuous traits about you that make you different from the rest of us. There's so much things I want to talk to you about...I'm sorry I couldn't do much for you as a friend. And I call myself—_you _call me as your best friend. I'm__ sorry Triela...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

Her heart rate lessens, her breathing became steady.

"_Roland is fortunate to have someone like you...unlike me. Roland..."_

She pauses, shedding tears in the process.

"_Roland, there's so much things I want to say to you, so many things I want to do. I can't bear that day seeing you and Triela together; I can't face reality knowing how close you and Triela have become. I'm sorry for being such a jerk to you sometimes...I'm sorry. In the end...I couldn't say it to you."_

The light around her begins to fade. Only the barrel of the silencer gleams among all.

"_Roland...I..." _

_###  
_

The ball bounces off the ring as Triela failed to make the shot. Suddenly she felt a lost within her, as if something was robbed from her deliberately and purposely, urging her to cry. The ball rolls away past her, only stopped by a small figure behind her.

"Enjoying your new 'life', Triela?"

Triela turns. Her eyes shot up, her muscles tenses and her heart races as she witness the figure standing 10 feet from her. Distinctively Triela can tell from her appearance she was about 13, wearing a grey top topped with a grayish-brown jacket. She recognized her as one of her sparring friend back in the Agency, a persistent and feisty girl in terms of CQC combat. Chips are her favorite snack despite her name referring to an oven-baked mini cake.

"Muffin...!"

_**To be continued...**_


	15. Chapter 14: Waltz

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 14: Waltz (Muffin W.)**

"_Everyone, this is Muffin. She's new here, so let us give her a very warm welcome!"_

_Triela grins at the sight of the new girl who bears the age of 13. The girl timidly hides her face._

"_Hello Muffin! My name is Triela, operative of Hillshire. You'll get used to things around here; we'll get along just fine!" _

No words exchanged. Silence was all the language left between them as they stood unmoved, facing each other once again. The younger girl gave a solemn expression as she advances step by step closer towards her, forcing her counterpart to retreat further. In a last ditch attempt, Triela attempted to run. That, too, however was cut short when Muffin, the younger girl, rips open her instrument case and reveals her G36C—locked and loaded.

"Don't even think about running, Triela."

"Muffin...why are you..."

"Here?" She spit, responding to Triela's question with discuss. "If it wasn't because of _you_ I wouldn't be here in the first place!"

Startled, Triela backed a step away as Muffin raises her rifle. Her eyes were clear, sharp, and trained as she aligns her sights to her exposed target. The open gym meant no place for cover or a place to run; the basketball ring and its stand as well as the bleachers couldn't withstand the pounding of a 5.56x45mm NATO; much less continuously. Clutching her fist tight, Triela narrows her eyes in fear of what is coming to her.

"...Muffin, you can't do this to me..." she started. "I'm a civilian of the Federal Republic of Germany, you can't..."

"Kill the innocent? Squish the vermin? Kill _you_?" Muffin hisses. "There's a reason why we even _exist_, Triela."

Never in her life under the umbrella of the Agency had Triela seen this side of Muffin; the cynical, merciless side of hers. Triela never had the chance to learn the past of the girl, nor did she ever catch wind of it. She has been a rather secluded individual, an anti-social to an extent requiring her to extend their arms and reach out for her. There was certain hatred of her towards civilian life Triela clearly recognizes as they met eye to eye; hatred that drives her to this day.

Muffin had been a mystery since her first arrival in the SWA. She was mostly quiet during her first few weeks of rehabilitation and adaptation to the Agency and the mechanical body she was granted with. She was shy at first, constantly trying to avoid the rest of the operatives despite having been introduced to the rest of the children; it was not until the 2nd week did she began to open up. Triela could never forget her first word when she first opened up.

"Let's spar."

Triela swallows a ball of her own spit, unable to believe or comprehend to what she heard. As if time repeats itself again to the first day Muffin began to talk; the day where she first faced Muffin in an intense CQC battle with broom sticks and rods.

"...E-excuse me...?"

"Has civilian life deafened you Triela? I said _let's spar_!" The young girl kept her sights upon her target as she began circling her victim, like a shark hungry for a prey. Slowly she moves towards the wall. "I've got orders to terminate you, but instead I'm going try my best to bring you back to the agency _intact_, whether you like it or not. But if you make it hard for me, I will shoot you."

"You sound just like your handler sometimes..."

"Heh, figures."

Not far from her position, two mops were leaned against the wall—its handle made of metal and carbon fiber. Improvising, Muffin took hold of the two utility and snaps its head from position before tossing one of them to the bewildered Triela. Hesitantly she took it, returning her gaze to Muffin as she holsters her carbine and swings her newly acquired melee weapon left to right. Gripping the once mop-handle hard, Triela can't help but let her lips shiver and tremble as Muffin takes her position across of her. Almost immediately, Muffin raises her mop handle and points its tip towards Triela.

"This is the last time I'll ask you, Triela. Why?"

Triela remain speechless.

"Why?? Why the hell are you doing this?! Leaving us? For this damn civilian life?"

Once again, Triela swallows hard. Her answer was uncertain. Was it her wish, her desire to escape? Or was it Hillshire's...? She fears the question would haunt her—and it did. Taking up what's left she had in the midst of the confusion, Triela answers. "...Because it is my decision."

"Pardon...?"

"Because it is my—no, it is Hillshire's and my decision! Hillshire had risked his life countless times to save me from certain death; I couldn't stand still and do nothing. I want to respect his wish—I want to be _free_! I want to live! All these years the Agency has been sending countless number of children whose future was ripped from their grasps. Hillshire has fought such ideals for a long time—for me. I couldn't stand still...I want to follow him to the end of my days."

Muffin shook her head. For a moment Triela could sense a strong sense of disappointment mixed with anger, and yet that too disappears in a moment's notice. Muffin sighs; a sigh of resentment.

She clears her throat. "Wasting lives, you said? WASTING LIVES?? Look at yourself! You're alive because of the Agency! The only reason that you and I are here, is because society has left us for DEAD in the first place!!"

"I was alive to this day because the Agency had left me for DEAD! It was the German scientists—the people you so call 'civilian' that has saved me!"

"FUCK THAT!" retort Muffin. "I used to respect you Triela. I really did. You were amongst the best of the best. Now you're nothing more than a damn selfish civilian. If you really cared, you would have stayed—you abandoned us Triela. You abandoned us for YOUR own interests!! You abandoned us for some shit civilian life!!"

"You don't even understand what..."

"SHUT UP!" Triela stops herself, backing a step away as Muffin lifts her rod and points at her again. "I ask you one last time, Triela. Are you returning, or are you ditching?"

It was her own words that had encouraged her; her own words that fused her with courage to pull her last decision. She knew what was coming for her, and yet she kept herself tight. Despite having a slight feeling of regret both to her friends and to Hillshire, Triela answers the question.

"I'm ditching, and I'm staying here in Berlin."

"...suit yourself." With that, Muffin switches her stance to a combat-ready position with her rod within attack length. Her left hand fixes two small compatible headphones to her ear before turning her MP3 on. She sighs as the music fills her ears. "...Angel of Doom. How ironic..."

Looking up towards her opponent one last time, Muffin mutters to herself. "Sorry to hear that..."

###

The sky thunders once again as dark clouds rolls in towards Berlin. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, Roland struggles to survive as he was drifted from his life to another; a life he was never meant to touch. His thoughts were confused as images of Maria flashes back and forth through his mind, followed with words of warning about Triela. It is what paces him, what urges him to seek her, to reach out to her and help her despite recognizing how powerless he is against the unknown force. His hesitation disappears. He raises his hand upon the next public transportation that passes by.

"Taxi...!"

It was not to his knowledge that he was being followed. The elder man with the dark sunglasses summons forth a taxi with the raise of his hand as Roland left in the car ahead. A girl followed after him into the taxi—possibly his daughter. Despite his lack of the German language, the man soon orders the driver to follow the cab ahead.

"Follow that car!"

"_Ah, I always wanted to hear that!" _the driver reply in heavy German. _"Hang on!"_

_###  
_

Like a lion against its prey or a shark facing its victim, the young operative circles Triela with her aluminum rod wielded with great efficiency. Her steps were slow and steady while her eyes fixed on the opponent's every movement. She was prepared to face her, and she was prepared to take full advantage of her stance. She was familiar with her every form of attack, her strikes, her swings and her evasive maneuvers—she was, after all, trained and spar with her almost daily and constantly. Her opponent was amongst the few whom she could call as her closest friends and now she has abandoned her. With every step and every move, she savors the moment. This is her music, her dance.

This is her waltz.

Like a lightning, her small figure moves swiftly across the court with her rod ready. Muffin grips her weapon hard as she strikes accurately and swiftly towards Triela's seemingly vulnerable waist. With the same instantaneous movement Triela, too, managed to block her first strike only to receive a second approaching in a very alarming rate. The blunt weapon strikes her left shoulder once with amazing force that caused her to flinch away from Muffin's attack range to avoid further injuries. Triela's short retreat was not the sign for Muffin to back down, however. Using the length of the rod as a pivot and her agility, Muffin swings her leg for a kick with a ranger further than her own arm's length.  
Triela had limited time to react to Muffin's attack as she back away from her disadvantageous stance. It was far too late for her as Muffin lands her kick across her prey's vulnerable neck, sending her tumbling across the slippery floor. A trail of blood splats appears as Triela crashes and tumbles further from her impact point. In an attempt to regain her footing, she coughs more across the floor while clutching her strained chest. Muffin stands still, unfazed with her rod clutched hard at her right. She moves closer, step by step, and sighs halfway.

"Has civilian life greatly weakened you to _this,_ Triela? Pitiful; you're not even a worthy foe against me!"

Muffin had clearly surpassed her.

Her lips tremble, her legs stagger as she attempts to recover from the blow; a trickle of blood trail from her lips down—a testimony to Muffin's close quarter's dominance. Despite the stress her body sustains, Triela can't help recalling the memories she had with this same girl back during her days of service in the Agency. She can't compare the Muffin she knew from her old days to the Muffin she currently is, this very aggressive, ruthless, and merciless operative who once challenged her in all occasions.

"_Triela! Let's spar!" Muffin said as she shoves the veteran operative with a broom stick. The book 'All Quiet on the Western Front' found in Triela's right hand never bothered her. "Please?"_

"_Muffin, I'm rather occupied with this piece of literature…can you ask me later?"_

"_B-but I want it now! There's no better time than this! Please…?"_

_Triela rests her book and sighs. "Alright, fine. Gimme' that broom!" _

"Triela, still alive…?"

In a moment's notice Triela snaps from her reminiscence and was just seconds away from receiving a follow-up strike from Muffin. The young girl's rod extends further as it attempts to jab Triela's vulnerable stomach. Triela's quick reaction enables her to parry the attack and dodges away in time as Muffin draws her next card of attack. Muffin had drastically improved in terms of style and strength, this is a fact she could not deny. She had recognized how she was far behind; how she lacked the tenacity and agility she need to confront her.  
Her sneakers slid across the floor as she attempt to take stance in a moment's recovery in response to Muffin's relentless assault. It was an entirely one-sided battle, a battle heavily favoring the small and agile Muffin along with her aggressive strikes. Taking up her stance once again, Muffin stares deeply towards Triela's eyes before she turns away. Sighing in what seems like regret, she fixes her footing and charges towards her—her weapon drawn high. In a split-second decision, Triela raises her weapon in an attempt to block Muffin's swing.

The clash of metal

The skids of rubber

The taste of blood

These are the characteristics Triela could describe as Muffin closes her distance towards her in a notice and—using her own rod—twists Triela's now-bent weapon and lands a powerful strike to her face with her arm. Triela backs away a few steps as she refuses to give in to the punishment she receives, once again drawing her weapon ready to face against Muffin's onslaught. Muffin stands still, taking deep breaths in between.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" she starts.

"I am doing what I am supposed to: fighting for my freedom!"

"_Fighting _for your freedom? PAH! Don't fuck around! You're not even capable to stand against me! You're _weak_ Triela; weak thanks to your new shit civilian life!!"

"And who are you to judge!?" Triela retort. "You're nothing more than a dog chained to a house!!"

"SHUT UP!!!"

Muffin drives again, this time straight towards Triela. The fugitive widens her eye as she perceives her opponent's charge and attempts to block her incoming attack. Drawing her rod like a long pole, Triela held it evenly as she tries to read Muffin's movement who—unlike her—held her weapon similarly to a long sword. The moment closes in as everything in her eyes turn slow motion and steady as she attempts to read her movements. Will she strike her neck? Or will she target her waist, her rib lines? Maybe she'll after her legs? Triela thinks intensively as the moment draws closer and closer. The moment Muffin moves to engage, that will be her time to parry the attack and strike her in return.

Muffin pulls her hand backwards, and immediately Triela took her stance to block her attack.

Her rod raised high to block Muffin's coming strike to her skull.

The two rods clashed, and Triela held still to Muffin heavy swing. Muffin grins.

Using her little body and the height she gained Muffin drives Triela backwards before—with force—parrying it away from the lock, giving them once again a wide distance. Muffin breathes heavily as she stares at her target who is also taking deep breaths in between and—to her advantage—suffering greater damage. For once, Muffin could recall the day they had spent together. Secretly, she let a tear runs down her cheek.

"_Higuu...!" Muffin was flung backwards and skids across the dirt floor after receiving a direct strike from Triela's attack. She stands firm, recovering from her attack and grins. "You're strong! I like you! Come at me again!"_

"_Geez, you're persistent..." Triela reply sighing, "This is the fifth time today had I thrown you away! Your attack was too ferocious yet is empty..."_

"_Empty?"_

"_Yeah...well, in my opinion. I don't know how your handler taught you though." _

"_...he talks about this SAS stuff and I..." she pause, "I think it's kinda' boring..." _

"_Maybe you ought to listen to your handler next time." Triela approaches Muffin and gave her a pat in her head. "Who knows? Maybe he'll teach you a thing or two!"_

"_...and maybe I can land a strike on you!" with an immediate turn, Muffin swings her stick towards Triela's vulnerable back. "GOT YOU...!"_

_It was as Triela had expected. Her attack was easily blocked by the veteran operative who held her 'weapon' like a lance. She grins in delight. "Just as I thought...next time, try to be extra crafty!" _

_Pushing her away, Triela sighs and reply,_

_###  
_

"Still up for more, Muffin?"

That is the same word she said to her a long time ago. Yet the Triela Muffin faced today was different from what she had faced during her days of introduction to the agency. Those days Muffin would spent an entire job-less day roaming the entire complex searching for her unofficial mentor, searching for her to challenge her again in a duel with broom sticks and mop despite the protest of her handler—Matthew West—and Hillshire for constantly breaking and forcing their handlers to pay for the mop they wrecked. That is, if she's not occupied with Frederick and their mini-Company of Heroes tournament. Once Claes demands the both of them to tend her garden after the two of them 'accidentally' trampled them during their duel. Now, however, it was different.

"Don't kid with me, Triela. You're not even on par against me."

"Maybe...but if it's worth trying, it's worth fighting for!"

"I guess there are things inside of you that never change." She smiles, "I'm coming at you; this time, I'll be sure to strike you down!"

"Bring it on!"

If Triela came to her like a tornado, Muffin charges at her like a hurricane. Their way to perceive battle is different from one another, where as Triela closes in and strikes with a clear path, Muffin came charging in randomly and strikes at her wherever she feels like it. This time, it was as if the battle they had once as master and apprentice repeats once—just this one day. Triela stands valiantly against Muffin's onslaught while attempting to find a clear opening where she can return the favor despite her now-bent rod. It was just a game, as Muffin once said after finishing the duel between her long ago; the same reply she said after her online match with the German.

"Did you perceive this as a game too, Muffin?"

"A game...?" she replies, "Yeah, maybe I do."

"You never change..."

"Heh." ...was all her reply.

"_Eyes open!" _

"_Already am!" Muffin's strike was once again blocked then parried by Triela, leaving her open to her attack. Intentionally, she grabs her by the collar and threw her to a considerable distance. Fortunate for her she lands somewhere softer than what she expected _

"_Nice try Triela! Come at me!"_

"_Oh, I am alright!"_

"_W-w-w-what the hell ARE YOU GUYS DOING ON TOP OF MY GARDEN!?" _

_The two combatant stops their activity the moment they recognize where they had been trampling on. The girl with glasses walking towards their 'arena' equipped with a genuine straw hat, a rake, a watering can as well as dragging a bag of fertilizer drops her bucket and glares the two of them. Triela tried to look directly at her eyes, but decided not to after noticing a slight glint coming from her lens._

"_Uuh...Claes! Hi! Um, we never meant to come and trample your garden so..."_

"_Oh, I see..." Claes reply. "Sure, it's not your fault, really...the garden is not really there, and this whole place is your arena; oh I do want to believe that you pretend my garden doesn't exist and it's just someone's patch of dirt suitable for an arena."_

"_It is a suitable arena for...!" Triela immediately covers Muffin's mouth. _

"_Hmm...I see Muffin, I see..."_

"_Oh, see what you have done, Muff?" Triela whispers. "She's definitely hunting us this time!"_

_Dropping her watering can which she hung with her rake, Claes grins devilishly. The atmosphere around them immediately transform as the girl with glasses equips her rake. "Then I guess I shall force the both of you to work for a month to fix my little vegetable garden!" she reply with a very eerie smile. "FEEL THE WRATH OF FARMER CLAES!!!" _

_That day ends with a draw, followed with a victorious roar by Claes over the two of them._

_###  
_

A single strike was enough to tear Triela's rod in two, breaking her only weapon and enabling Muffin to land a powerful strike to her which sends her back. It was also a single voice that stopped the two of them dead in their tracks and stare at the individual with the P230SL pistol gripped hard in his hand. Muffin spits hard at the scene.

"Oh, so now you're a 'damsel in distress' Triela? A pathetic D.I.D...?"

"Roland! Why..."

The boy was unstable, as what Muffin and Triela perceives. His stance was nothing compared to what they had been trained for, and the way he held his pistol is nothing more than an imitation to those of the Army; it was something Muffin could tell that it came from shooter games. She hiss at the sight as Roland signals Triela to come to her, a means to escape. She also took that as an underestimation of her ability.

"Give me your weapon, boy."

Of course, the sight of Matthew behind Roland and holding him up his head puts a little grin onto her face. "I guess he'll be no problem after this."

Seeing how the situation turns around, Roland slowly lifts his hand up—the pistol on his right—and slowly shivers in fear. Matthew sighs. "Well, the Agency said not to have any witnesses. So it makes no different; your life ends here."

"Please, don't!"

What happened next is what is too difficult to perceive in the eyes of Triela. Here was Roland, held up by Matthew West—Muffin's handler—shivering feverishly as the gun is shoved to his skull. The next minute, here he was—still with his pistol—tugging her away from the gym to somewhere she's unsure of. This, too, is hard to be perceived by Muffin herself.

Not a second too late, there was Fernando right behind Matthew with his weapon of choice similarly shoving it to Matthew's temple. "I suggest you drop yours too. I don't want this to end into a bloodbath."

A moment later, Rachel shows up armed with her bayonet-equipped M1 Garand and readily fixed her sight towards Muffin. She was prepared—as Triela could tell—for a hand-to-hand combat considering her long spear-like weapon. "You boy...! Take the girl and leave! We'll handle this..."

Roland nods and immediately took Triela by the hand and tugs her away from the fight. The moment it did, the entire gymnasium evolves into a firefight with Matthew's quick action to disarm Fernando returned with Fernando's action to prevent Matthew's move. Muffin, too, immediately threw her rod towards Rachel and dodges two of her shots before drawing her G36C ready and attempts to fire towards the escaping target. Rachel's quick aim prevented her from doing so and instead drives her towards the nearest cover. The 'ping' that echoed throughout the gymnasium was the signal for Muffin to break from her cover. It was, however, a little too late for her as Roland and Triela had left the gym altogether, while outside she could tell Matthew's having a 'silenced' gun duel with Fernando.

"What the fuck?!" she reply towards the situation. It was not to the surprise of Triela Muffin's handler, Matthew, said the same thing at the same time. "You're siding with her?!"

"You can say...I got 'enlightened' by Fernando."

"Damn traitor!!!"

###

Triela stole a glance or two across the hallway and towards the gym. Her feeling was burdened with leaving Rachel and yet was grateful for saving her. No...She should be grateful to Roland instead. Or does she? Within, she too was conflicted with the feeling of guilt. Clearly, she recognized that all of this was due to her. It was all because of their attempt—Hillshire and she— to reach for something beyond their caged life, and now the Agency were drawing everything they had to recapture her. Instead, all she could mutter was,

"...thank you, Roland..."

"D-don't mention it..." he reply, flustered. "I-I'm just doing what I'm supposed to do as a boy."

There was a moment of silence as they run through the hallway. Clenching the pistol on his right, Roland stop dead in his tracks the moment he saw a boy of German nationality carrying an instrument case standing across them. His olive drab trench coat, his military boots and his uniformed self tells Roland immediately that he is not from around the school—and definitely not friendly.

"Going somewhere, Triela?" ask the German in the trench coat. Roland took a small step back, taking deep breaths in between as Triela widens her eye in disbelief upon witnessing who it was. It was as if this encounter is a cruel trick by fate, as if it was determined from the start of her leave. She had expected to face her old friends in the Agency upon deserting her role, and yet she prayed and prayed each day not to meet with a particular individual; not to bring up old memories with him that could shatter her—shatter _their_ heart. How she wanted to curse God for placing her in this situation, how she wanted to curse herself for letting him exist.

Standing before them was a face all too familiar to Triela; a face she could once recall as her closest aide, and her lover.

"Frederick…w-why…?"

The boy stood still and hid his eyes, away from her gaze.

**Author's Note:****  
**

**A sincere apology from me for my tardiness and the late posting of this! Had a little problem here and there, got a school life to fulfill and not to forget, my internet went out for almost 2 weeks! Figure it was the PC's problem, so I had to reboot the computer and stuff yadiyadiya etc. Currently I'm posting this up in an internet cafe, so I guess there might be further delay for further chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gunslinger Girl. Character Muffin W. and Matthew W. respectfully belong to Whatface, as so characters Rachel F. and Fernando belongs to ElfenMagix**

**Character Roland Adler and Frederick H. Koch belongs to me, Panzer IV. **

**(If there are any edits needed for your respective OCs, tell me. That is all!)**

**Signed,  
Panzer IV  
**


	16. Chapter 15: Friends

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 15: Friends (Rachel F. & Muffin W.)**

_Upon entering the doors of the Agency's cafeteria, Rachel pause the moment she saw someone unfamiliar sitting in a wide cafeteria table alone. She was young, shy, and reserved in character. In Rachel's own perspective, she was unintentionally avoiding those who tried to approach her. There she sat alone, chewing her breakfast like a machine before swallowing it. Deep within her, Rachel curses the other operatives who were in cafeteria but decided to stick with their own little gossip group._

"_Damn snobs!" she said silently, making her way to the girl. The girl in her brown jacket stole a glimpse at the girl approaching her before returning back to her breakfast. Rachel sighs and smile,_

"_So, you're new here?"_

_Surprised, the girl shot up her gaze towards her before timidly returning to her breakfast. Slowly, she answers, "Y-yes…" _

"_Damn those bitches! Just because they are better equipped than the rest of us doesn't mean they are better than us!" She hisses. "Come on, let's leave this brothel and find someplace else!"_

"_B-but Matthew said…"_

_Rachel rolls her eye and sighs. "Leave him to me! I'll talk to your handler later! If he asked you to stay here, then I might as well leave a message for him!"_

_Leaving the cafeteria, Rachel intentionally drags the timid girl by the hand with little hesitation. She was reluctant at first, but decided to follow soon after. The silence between them was slightly disturbing as she too was expecting a question or two from the one who was being dragged. Not too far from their destination, Rachel turns her attention towards her 'captive'. _

"_Guess I'll break the ice…" she starts, taking a deep breath. "My name's Rachel F. I am your current kidnapper and your fellow operative. Yours…?"_

"_M-Muffin…Muffin West…"_

"_West, huh…? Your handler's surname, I presume."_

"_Yes…"_

"_Ok then, glad to meet you Muffin!"_

_It was then did Muffin realize they were headed for the open yard. The girl who kidnapped her stops for a moment and look around before finally waving to a group, gathered together at a patch of what seems to be a garden; Muffin noted how one of them is wearing a farmer's hat, notifying that she is the owner of the small vegetable garden. _

_There were a total of 6 operatives—all female with a male of approximately 16-17, among them—seated together. Their attention towards Rachel's call were mostly optimistic, with the brunette planting a smile on her face, the blond tilting her head sideways and smile, the 'farmer' leaning deeper towards her tool while raising her left hand to greet, the redhead letting out a sigh and calling 'you're late' towards them, the boy with the grin topped with a salute-like greeting, and—in the center of it all—the girl with two ponytails seated next to the boy. She widens her eyes towards the newcomer for awhile before raising her hand to greet. _

_In response, Rachel moves beside Muffin and taps both of her hands to her shoulders._

"_Everyone, this is Muffin. She's new here, so let us give her a very warm welcome!"_

_##  
_

It was different back then to what it seems today. Here, within the hollow gymnasium, the two stands idly, facing each other and anticipating for any signs of sudden movements. Their eyes narrowed, their teeth gritted at the thought of how cruel fate has placed them into. She never thought a day like this to come to her; just like what had happened to her in the depths of Muffin's long-forgotten past. Standing before her, Rachel readies her bayonet-attached M1 Garand and grips it hard in her palm.

"…I never thought this day would come to be." She said, sighing. "You know, we fighting each other."

"Our relationship was strained to begin with Rachel…it...I mean, we are not compatible. Besides, you seem to prefer…"

"That is not the point, Muffin!" she returns, disappointed with Muffin's remarks. "This wouldn't happen if we were to agree with each other! You have to believe me; the Agency's doing this just so…"

"Shut up…!" Muffin sighs. Deep inside, she too harbored a feeling of regret. "…that day, you did that of pity; you 'hauled' me just to make a name for yourself!"

Muffin grits her teeth. "You are a terrible liar, Rachel. In the end…in then you are the same as the rest of them!"

"Muffin, please stop!" cried Rachel. "So this _also _relates to something that existed _back then_!? By God...I never thought you could be this…this…negative! Back then I _cared _for you Muffin! I really do! You're out there; all alone sitting in a 4-man table while the other operatives available _ignored _you! I did that because I care! I…care…"

Muffin let out a deep sighs while trying to hold her tears as Rachel let one to two run down her cheek. Among other things, remembering about her past is something she disliked. "I see you as my first ever real best friend, Rachel…but why…?"

"I'm sorry Muffin…I don't want to do this either..." she sighs while wiping the few last tears. "As long as my handler stays to support Hillshire, then I too will stand for Triela."

"Despite knowing how you were somewhat 'unwanted' by the group? How Triela pushes you away each time there _is _a chance?"

Rachel knew that was a fact she can't deny. Despite having to linger with the group mentioned, her status as a second gen. operative and the treatment she receive from her handler had sparked a series of unwanted discussion and conflicts within. True, she did receive better treatment from her handler compare to her friends; it was also true how difficult it is to hide the fact from her friends when casual discussions and talk takes place, commonly inciting grudging experiences and jealousy. Still, Rachel stayed for more in a number of occasions.

"I know, Muffin. It hurts sometimes despite how subtle she tried to tell." She sighs. Her eyes immediately shot up towards Muffin. "But that's a proof that we are all alive; a proof that we are all part of the Agency. The fact that we are all together is a good enough answer for me. It proves that I am part of them! Therefore I will stand and defend Triela."

Muffin bit her lip and narrows her eyes as she clenches her left fist. At this point of time, Muffin knew she should respond with utmost hostility towards the traitor and immediately attempt to take her out of the picture to prevent further unwanted intervention. But she stood there, uncertain of what action she should take. It was similar to something that came from her past; a past best forgotten and untouched. "I can't believe this is actually happening…"

Muffin turns her face away from Rachel and grits her teeth. "…in the end, you are all the same like them. All of you…those bastards…"

"Muffin…?"

In a bolt, Muffin's eyes were shot right towards Rachel's figure and immediately send sudden chills down Rachel's spine. Her quick reflex follows, cocking her G36C with inhuman impulse and immediately had her weapon bead down towards the girl standing before her. Rachel, too, waste no time the moment she noticed the sudden rise of hostility and respond fast enough to prevent Muffin from pulling her trigger finger. With a second to spare, Rachel beads the sights of her M1 Garand towards Muffin.

Like the crack of a whip, the sound echoed throughout the entire gym.

##

_There was a time when things run awry between the two of them. It starts with an action, an argument, and ends with an unresolved conflict that strained their friendship since. Both sides refused to admit their need to return to each other and forgive. Instead they turn their backs towards each other, talking only once in awhile to hide the fact from the rest of the company._

"_But it wasn't my fault! I swear it wasn't…"_

"_Muffin cut it out. Please, I know you spar often with Triela; and I know you sometimes have those in and around the __**entire **__Agency complex! I won't be surprise if you—being the more aggressive—would __**unintentionally **__crash the window frame of my room and knock my belongings down to the floor! Do you know how much the music box worth to me?"_

"_B-but Rachel…!" Muffin tries to retort, but stopped midway. "…Rachel…"_

"_Please Muffin, just admit you did it."_

_Muffin didn't reply. Gritting her teeth and letting a droplet of tear run down her cheek, the suspected muttered the word 'idiot' and left the baffled attorney agape, backs facing her. _

"_Muffin, wai…damn it!" _

_It was not until a few weeks later did Rachel learn the truth on who broke the window. Three weeks later, Triela confessed to her in the absence of Muffin considering her broken window. By then, it was all too late between Muffin and Rachel. Muffin was already far too occupied with Triela and the rest of the girls and had almost—had not entirely—forgotten the matter with Rachel. Rachel, too, was feeling far too guilty to see her face to face. _

_From this point further, their relationship began to strain again and again as the days pass by…_

_##  
_

It was a close call for Muffin, but her reflexes has saved her from a certain hit and leave her with a scratch and a tear around her waist instead. Recovering from the roll and taking advantage of the M1 Garand's rate of fire and recoil, Muffin immediately took aim towards Rachel and sends a burst fire of 5.56x45mm NATO towards the rifleman. The shot was sudden but was too desperate to be accurate. Although she would—and she could—take one to two round, Rachel, too, dodges the shot and began a sprint to the nearest cover—the deployed bleachers—after noting the disadvantage she has in ranged engagement. Muffin took aim, but hesitates for a second and watches her run to the bleachers for cover. She clicks her tongue in response to her hesitation and began a spring towards the bleacher's control.

"You're not hiding that easy from me, Raych!"

"Think again, Muff!" Rachel said aiming through the sights of the Garand far from the other end of the bleachers, using the steel retractable support for cover. Muffin widens her eyes in surprise. "Check!"

Again the gym echoed with the firing sound of the M1 rifle. Three shots were fired and were enough to send Muffin to cover using the bleachers itself. A round whizz past her eye the moment she tried to peek around the corner. Rachel had her eyes bead on her position and had planned a way to ensure Muffin could not react against her retaliation. If Muffin attempts to flank her, she deserves a quick and swift bayonet strike strong enough to incapacitate her and pull her out of the picture.

But Muffin was no fool.

Having listened to Triela and Rachel's own advice of asking their handler for tips and training, Muffin achieved the skill comparable to the Australian SAS and—with the assistance of her cyborg strength—surpasses the capabilities of any known SAS operative in terms of endurance and raw power. She has been counting Rachel's shot from the start and she knew the M1 Garand—though powerful—hosts only 8 rounds of .30 and creates a distinctive 'ping' when it ran out of bullets. Unlike her suppressed G36C, Muffin was granted the capabilities to reload her clip faster and anytime she needed it. The Garand, on the other hand, does not. Attempting to do so would result in the injury of the user or the damage to the Garand itself.

Out of all, she knew Rachel's position works double as a good cover and an iron maiden. The moment she activates the bleacher's control, all the bleachers starting from the far end of the switch would retract back into position and crush anyone foolish enough to stay behind. During Rachel's dash to the exit, that would be Muffin's chance to score a kill shot.

"Think I'm a fool, are you?" using her cover, Muffin draws her weapon out and fires bursts blindly without exposing herself in attempt to draw Rachel out of her safety zone and into her trap. "Well c'mon! Fight me like a man!"

"…I'm a girl for Christ's sake…" Rachel reply in humor, having missed the bait. "Come show your face so we can end this nonsense quickly!"

Muffin sighs and clicks her tongue. She spits in annoyance, resembling Matthew to a small extent before she grits her teeth. 'It is now or never', she thought. If she could make the dash to the control, Rachel would be in a very tough situation and—if she's lucky—Rachel would miss her shots and give an opening for her. Having gathered her courage, Muffin fixes her eyes on the control. "Here goes…!"

A desperate sprint to the control was her final solution. The moment she took off Rachel already had her Garand beaded on her and immediately she pull the trigger. The shot flies and lands ahead of Muffin, missing her leg by a centimeters. Failing to incapacitate her in the first shot, Rachel fires a second shot which intentionally aimed at her waist. That too was a miss the moment Muffin rolls on the ground and regains her footing a hand away from the switch. Rachel could see what she attempted and saved her last bullet the moment Muffin rests her hand on the switch. If need be, she'll aim for her head and stop her entirely for eternity.

"I'm not a fool too, Muffin!"

What Rachel missed was Muffin's unrefined counterattack. Having known Muffin's combat style, Rachel had never expected her opponent to respond in a blind manner of shooting wildly to the side with the lack of accuracy. It was an attempt to suppress her with sheer volume of fire while on the move, sacrificing accuracy entirely by firing from the hip. The shots ricochet all and around the bleacher's steel retractable frame; some shots were lucky enough to whizz past her. Despite that attempt, Rachel took steady aim and waits the moment Muffin stops. "Checkmate!"

"Checkmate on you, Raych!"

It was then did Rachel notice Muffin's right hand on the switch. She turns to look behind the moment the sound of the retracting bleachers began to descend. In that desperate moment for her she began imagining the feeling of pain as fear assails through her face. Behind, the bleacher's were fast retracting while ahead of her Muffin stood there waiting, calmly reloading her suppressed G36C. In a desperate attempt, within the cramped space of the bleacher's metal frame, Rachel lifts her rifle by one hand and fires her last round towards Muffin. The shot was flies away pass Muffin, missing her entirely followed with the trademark 'ping' the Garand has after its last round. All she has right now were prayers constantly circulating through her head.

"…it's over for you." With her weapon ready, Muffin aims her carbine towards the approaching target. Again, she hesitates for a second upon meeting Rachel's face eye to eye and having the thought of killing her very first best friend in the Agency rather disturbs her. No matter, it will end soon.

##

_Three weeks after the window incident, Rachel and Muffin had an unexpected run-in with each other in the Agency's halls. For a second, a moment of silence and awkwardness befell upon them as they exchange gazes in a seemingly endless hour. None of them refuse to stand for the situation, as such would lead to further conflicts—or so they think. Pacing herself, Muffin eventually levitate pass Rachel, as if she was never there in the first place. _

"_...hey, Muff…"_

_Rachel's unexpected call stops Muffin abruptly. She looks back for a second, her eyes searching the very figure who accused her a few weeks ago. She waited and waited, and yet no reply followed after her call. "…nevermind."_

"_Don't call me anytime you feel like it. I am not your play thing."_

_Muffin walks away deeper into the hall, deeper into the dormitory. As she disappears in the corners, Rachel grits her teeth and clenches her jaws while repeating the same line over and over again: 'don't cry'. In the end however, she finally give in._

"_Muffin…I-I'm sorry…"_

_##  
_

A repetitive whisper echoed across the gymnasium once again; the whisper of a silenced death god. One who wields a weapon knows that each decision he or she makes determines the life of those he faces either in or out of training. A single action could mean taking one's life or saving them, whichever path the wielder desires.

Fernando was no exception.

It was something most 'normal' individual could not have pulled; a stunt of extreme impossibilities and a trick that fools the magician's eye. The shot itself had startled her enough to yank a curse out of her mouth. From across the gymnasium's bleachers and at the same time handling Matthew in a semi-hand to hand combat in the small second floor walkway, Fernando managed to foresee the events happening on the other side of the gym and act accordingly. The shots were tight, but were accurate enough to be called as a warning shot if it landed a few centimeters before her feet. Muffin thinks he was lucky, but that 'luck' of his has extended the life of another operative. Impressive enough, Fernando managed to return his attention back to Matthew.  
In split second, Rachel dives away from her deathbed while drawing her rifle upwards like a spear. With its bayonet attached, the M1 Garand is a formidable modern spear similarly like the one used by Pikemen or spearmen alike in the past for its length and mobility. Her dive, followed with a power thrust towards Muffin was all she needs to get her back for what she attempted to do. Muffin too reacts accordingly to block the spear using all means possible to survive. The knife went through the carrying handle of the G36C before Muffin went down with Rachel standing above her thrusting and pushing her knife down, forcing Muffin to retaliate in a very disadvantageous way as a single reluctance could lead to the knife moving down inch by inch and thrusting down to her throat, leading to a slow and suffocating death.

"What is it that you don't understand, Mufin!?" Rachel starts as she tries to push her weapon further down. "How blind are you to the Agency? Are you among those who call themselves lapdogs?"

Muffin retaliates. "What part is it that _you_ don't understand!? You're nothing more than a spoiled child unsatisfied with her parent's income! You're the same as Triela and her selfish act!"

"Well, then I guess I can believe that I'll feel good once she escape the hideous jaws of the Agency! At least I don't feel ANY GUILD FROM KILLING YOU IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES!"

Muffin grits her teeth and gathers her strength.

"If that's so, then SO DO I!"

With her gathered strength, Muffin pushes Rachel away from her rifle. The bayonet slides out of the carrying handle of the G36C as Rachel attempts to regain her footing and momentum while Muffin do a quick jump to stand back up and face her opponent. With little time to reload, Rachel uses her M1 rifle similarly to a melee weapon and once again attempts to thrust her weapon into Muffin's chest. Regaining her footing, Muffin could easily dodge Rachel's 'banzai charge' and rolls away towards her previous weapon: the metal rod used to fight Triela moments ago. Clutching the weapon hard in her palm, Muffin draws her survival knife and forcefully attaches it to the rod. Holstering her carbine once again, Muffin wields the metal rod similarly to a halberd and eyes her opponent. Rachel readies herself for the impact.

"I'm coming for you, Rachel!"

##

_The cold night breeze ruffles through Muffin's hair as she looks up towards the starry night sky. Earlier before, she spent her evening with Triela socializing about their past, their life, and their future. Her last 'laughter' somehow managed to send Triela away passively back to the dormitory. 'It's late', she told her before she left. True, the clock has struck nine 15 minutes before, but considering her response, Muffin figure it was due to her laughter and sudden stop. That is what she wanted to believe despite having to see Frederick standing not far from their position. She sighs._

"…_you alone, Muff?" _

_Muffin turns, startled by the voice not because she doesn't recognize who it was, but because it was someone she least expected. _

"_Mind if I sit beside you?"_

"_Ok…that's fine with me." Muffin answers hesitantly, scooting over to provide a seat for her new guest. "…it's been a long time, has it?"_

_Rachel nods. "Yeah…" _

_Silence once again surrounds them, with only crickets chirping and the stars and the moon to accompany them. There was a feeling of awkwardness that surrounds them, the feeling of guilt and regret followed with the idea of how they're not supposed to be there altogether. Despite these feelings, the thought of moving to a different position never crossed their head. _

"_Hey Muff…?" _

"…_yeah?"_

_There was a moment of silence as Muffin gaze at the one calling her. All in awhile, Rachel didn't respond. Her face was hidden by her bangs as she lowers her head even further, while Muffin began to feel slightly irritated for having to be called a second time for no apparent reason. Sighing heavily, Muffin turns away._

"_Look, if you're thinking of starting a conversation, then I suggest you…"_

"_I'm sorry…"_

_Words immediately freeze ice cold within Muffin's lips. The word 'sorry' was enough to bring her into confusion and awe to some extent. It was not often did someone actually apologizes to her unless she was there when it happened. Muffin bit her lip as she tries to restrain herself from blushing heavily for not being able to come up with a good reply. Swallowing a large amount of her saliva, Muffin turns her attention away from Rachel and into the starry sky,_

"_Well…uuh…I'm glad you understand your mistakes earlier or anything but…"_

"_No, Muffin! That isn't what I'm talking about! I'm sorry, Muffin! I'm sorry for falsely accusing you a few weeks ago considering the window incident…"_

_Muffin was not the type who dwells into the past longer than necessary. She had either forgotten or refused to remember anything that left a bad taste in her mouth or considered 'best forgotten' in her memory banks. Despite of this, she stayed and listens to Rachel as she explains herself. "…go on…"_

"_It was Triela. Muffin, I'm sorry to have blamed you for everything. Really, I am…"_

_Muffin sighs. "You know, for a week there I actually thought of slapping you in the cheek and…"_

"_Then do so!" cut Rachel. "If that makes you feel better then…"_

"_Geez you're in a hurry are you? Shit, calm down!" Muffin grunts. "Seriously…you never change…" _

_A smile escapes Muffin's lips as she says so. It doesn't take words or actions for them to understand each other or for Rachel to confirm if her apology is accepted. It was, without a doubt in Rachel's head, that Muffin has accepted her apology. Rachel returns with a smile._

"…_thank you."_

"_You know, I'd feel better if you could buy me chips for a week's worth…"_

"_Hah, you're joking are you?"_

"…_I'm serious…" _

_Laughter follows as they let themselves enjoy their time together. One with Rachel, having her guilt lifted and another with Muffin, having to forgive Rachel and earn her trust towards her friend once again. "Hey, Raych…"_

"_Yeah…?"_

"_I was thinking…since we made up, why don't we…you know…hug or something…?"_

_Rachel returns with a warm smile. "Sure, why not?" _

_##  
_

The door of the gymnasium crash open and out tumbles Rachel followed with a leap from Muffin towards her. Rachel rolls to the right just in time as Muffin's improvised spear slams the ground in a violent force. Quickly Rachel recovers from her earlier impact to block Muffin's second strike towards her vulnerable head using the M1 rifle's stock. Earlier before, Rachel had received a gash to her chest followed with a strong kick that had sent her away from the door. She had been distracted for a moment when Fernando managed to parry Matthew's knife and gun attacks before sending him down to the 1st floor. Lucky for him, he managed to grab hold of the basketball ring and reduce the impact of his fall before drawing his pistol and fire a few rounds at Fernando who, similarly, retaliates using his weapon. It was at that moment did Rachel had lost focus and allowed Muffin to land a swift strike to her chest before kicking her away through the door. Despite having the pain to be relieved the moment she recovered from her fall, the attack itself felt like an insult to Rachel's ability in close-quarter combat.

"Had enough Raych?" Muffin grits her teeth as she called out the taunt. "Give it up already!"

"'Give it up'…?" Rachel reply, feeling almost no pain. "HAH! Don't joke around! This is nothing but a mere scratch!"

The moment Rachel ends her sentence she swiftly dashes forward with her M1 bayonet at the ready. The rain drew harder and harder as their 'spears' clashed and their screams echoed but were unheard in the midst of the pouring rain and the clash of steel. Within themselves, adrenaline was constantly pumped through their nerves as they respond each other with fierce intensity and murderous intentions. Both of their weapons share the same critical hit point that lies at the tip of their bayonets, each attached to their poles; an M1 Garand for Rachel and a steel rod for Muffin. Despite having a ranged weapon, Rachel had limited to almost no time to reload her rifle which could possibly turn the tide in the stalemate while Muffin, on the other hand, were unable to inflict enough damage to Rachel due to her hesitation considering who her opponent is. In the end, both sides resort with the use of pure strength and technique to outwit or dominate their opponent.  
Slash! A quick strike from Rachel's M1 bayonet finally gashed Muffin's left cheek. Startled, Muffin backs away to a considerable distance before checking the wound she received seconds ago. The blood in her finger made her realize how vulnerable she was at that few precious seconds. Muffin grits her teeth and narrows her eyes in annoyance at her opponent, failing to realize she has reloaded her M1 Garand.

"What's wrong?" taunt Rachel. "Had enough?"

"Don't fuck with me!"

With adrenaline sill running high within her, Muffin charges at Rachel with her weapon high, ready for the strike. Rachel grins victoriously and raises her rifle to firing position. "Checkmate!"

The roar of the M1 Garand immediately echoed through the entire school complex.

##

"_Have you heard our new mission Raych?"_

"_Mission? What mission?" Rachel answers. "Wait, what?" _

"_We have a mission to go after Triela. It seems she went AWOL in 'a pursuit for freedom', or so Frederick said."_

_Rachel sighs. "In 'a pursuit for freedom'…? What the heck's wrong with that? I mean, I knew Hillshire would be crazy enough to pull that stunt, but isn't the Agency being a little too reckless to just let him walk out the front gate?"_

_Muffin shrugs. "Well, I don't know! All I know was how the Agency's willing to draw all of its strongest cards to find them. It's a big game of cat and mouse if you ask me."_

_Judging from Muffin's words, Rachel has nothing else to say in return and resort to biting her thumbnail to concentrate on the topic. Considering how the Agency was all about the 'hush-hush', it would be too easy for them to track down escaping fratellos—similarly to how Arnester and Pia did theirs in the past. But having to draw all their strongest cards just find Hillshire and Triela was a little too exaggerated for Rachel herself to belief this is more than a 'search and recapture' mission. _

"_Muffin, is there anything else I need to know about this mission—aside that I will be involved as well, of course." _

_The girl paused. "Well, they did say we should retrieve Triela alive and in one piece if possible."_

"_What about Hillshire?"_

"_They say he's best be 'swimming with the fishes'. This will be a good one! I mean, this is the first time I can go all out against someone!" _

_It was to her realization at that moment the true purpose and intention of the mission. This mission is not what she thought it would be; to her it was more of a 'search and destroy' mission with Hillshire's extermination at the core of its objective. She denied this hypothesis of her in favor of believing of her handler's promise to release Hillshire and abide the Agency's order—to a small extent. It was not until her encounter with Triela did she realize what freedom meant for her—for Triela, while it was not until Ehud and Luke's involvement in the matter did she accept her old hypothesis as true._

_From that point on, she realizes which side she should pick, a side where Fernando, too, would take. From that day onwards, she knew she will have to fight her former friends. And for that, she's prepared to give everything she had to ensure Triela's survivability from the Agency's agents. _

_##  
_

Muffin stumbles to the ground, writhing in pain for a moment before attempting to stand back to her feet. She struggles to do so before eventually collapsing back to the ground. The bullet earlier had pierced through her right leg and went through the other side, rupturing flesh and nerves. Blood seeps through her jeans as she attempts to clutch her wounds tight to stop the bleeding. She knew the pain would slowly go away sooner or later due to the conditioning drug and medications, but how long it will take depends on the amount she took. For now, she has to bear with it until the pain disappears.

"…I told you I won't hold back." Rachel said taking deep breaths in between. The barrel of her M1 Garand was smoking from the previous shot.

"T-traitor…! You damn back-stabbing traitor!" Muffin struggles to stand. "…F-fucking shit…!"

"Call me what you want, but we have our own agenda from now on. So don't interfere, Muffin. Don't interfere. Triela _will _escape! And I can assure you that!"

Muffin grits her teeth, curses, and clicks her tongue as Rachel began to leave the scene. "Why are you doing this Rachel…?"

Rachel stops and turns, leaving no answer before returning to her path. With her backs facing her, Rachel reply,

"…it makes me feel better, that's all."

With that answer, she left the area as Muffin rests herself under the downpour. "…what kind of answer is that?"

Fernando, too, had just finished dealing with Matthew and soon rendezvous with Rachel not far from the gym. Between Fernando and Matthew, the victor was clear in terms of experience and strength. After Fernando managed to land a kick straight into Matthew's chest, the impact was strong enough to let air escapes his lungs and powerful enough to send him back to the gymnasium storage room. He was unconscious by then.

"You're done with your side, Raych?"

"I can't finish her off…I just…can't…" Rachel hides her face away from Fernando. Fernando sighs.

"Our objective here is not to kill those who oppose us, but it is to ensure the safety of Triela and Hillshire. You did well."

Fernando's radio buzzes soon after with Ehud on the other side of the line. Fernando was immediately notified how quick the Agency had learned of their treachery and word of how the other teams were converging on the school to shut the trap. He was also informed of the presence of 2 other active operative still hot on Triela's tail.

##

"_We'll be there in a minute, Fernando. The school's just a few blocks away by foot. In the meantime, go and find that boy and Triela! I can assume the 2 operatives have located her during your engagement with Matthew/Muffin!" _

"Affirmative Ehud, we're moving now; Fernando out." Cutting their communication, Fernando briefly checks the gym storage and finds the unconscious Matthew—his radio was at hand.

"Sneaky bastard…" he grins, satisfied of his opponent's spirit.

"So, what do we do now?"

"We're going to go after Triela! Her safety is our highest priority! The police would be here in a minute after hearing the last gunshot so we have limited time as well. We better get moving before something unexpected wound up!"

Rachel nods. "Roger that."

The gymnasium once again stood idly with little or no activity aside from the drizzling rain outside. The sounds of footsteps became louder by the minute as Rachel and Fernando left the area in a relatively hurried state.

**Author's Note:**

**This is amongst the longest chapter I've written and probably the most touching one...I think. Without the permission (and guide) from ElfenMagix (owner of Rachel F.) and Whatface (owner of Muffin W.), this chapter would not exist. Arigatou! Please R&R on what you think of this chapter!**

**I do not own Gunslinger Girl. Characters Muffin W. (Whatface) and Rachel F. (ElfenMagix) is copyright of their respective authors. Frederick H. Koch belongs to Panzer IV (me).  
**


	17. Chapter 16: Reminiscence of the Far Past

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 16: Reminiscence of the Far Past (Frederick H.)**

_The rain poured down on his face as he stares blankly at the sky, waiting for his end. All around and across him were bodies strewn in hundreds of different positions each with varying degree of agony. There were those who struggle to survive in the midst of the falling rain and streams of light. He was slightly familiar with the sounds that echoed throughout the entire Piazza di Spagna, sounds closely resembling those that came from video games depicting conflicts that happened long or far-far away. He could slightly identify—though inaccurately—form what it came from. Further explosions echoed around him followed with more flashes of light above him. But why was he here? Why didn't he move? Under the midst of the chaos, panic, and the falling bodies all around him, he stayed still; his right hand still tightly clutching the hand of a deceased little girl. _

_Then it stopped. It stopped abruptly after three loud explosions—or what he thought was explosion—echoed in the damp atmosphere. Soon after came the writhing sound of pain all around him from those who survive while those who did not left out a cold expression of fear and panic. There were footsteps, plenty of them, silently walking and dodging through the bodies. Then there were those familiar sounds again. This time he concluded: gunshots. Apparently, they were there to put out the misery of those who survived the slaughter and carnage. The moment the first echoed again, his mind urged him to move…move…move…and yet he lie still, cold, wet, and in pain. He figured he could not feel his right leg and his left arm; as if it doesn't seem to exist in the first place. Later, he figured he has lost them during the onslaught. In his heart, he cried for his parents and his sister—all dead. _

_Then they came, like aliens. The footsteps were closer than ever and at a moment's notice, a girl look down on him. She was younger than him, a brunette, clutching what seems to be an AMATI violin case. Upon looking down on him, the girl widens her eyes and follows the rhythm of his breathing before turning her attention away from him towards the rest._

"_José…! José! Come take a look! We got a survivor!" _

_The rest of the company arrives in seconds. Their eyes wander on every part of him before turning to each other and began discussing with each other on whether or not they should end his life there to cut him from his misery. He knew, and eventually he himself asked them with struggle to end his life right there using his mother tongue—the German language. _

_It was at that moment did he notice a countryman and his daughter that stood up against the rest of them and wished for him to stay alive. _

_Thus he was taken, medicated, and was given a handler. Thus he was trained, fed, and educated._

_And thus, the boy with the name 'Frederick Heckler Koch' was born. _

_##  
_

Here he stands, face to face against his opponent. Here he stands against his prey. His eyes are focused on the two birds at the end of the hallway; the weight of his instrument case never bothered him as he advances step by step. At the other end of the hallway, Triela could figure who was standing as an obstacle for their escape. Swallowing her spit in disbelief, Triela clutches the hand of Roland Adler as the sensation of fear overwhelms her. The figure with the trench coat smiles cynically as his boots echoed throughout the corridor while he makes his way towards them.

"Long time no see, _fraulein_." He said as a start. Roland immediately shields Triela behind him and takes his stance, drawing his P230SL with its sights beaded on the figure. "Oh? I see you have yourself a brave company."

"…Frederick…" Triela said in disbelief. "W-why are you…?"

"…here?" a chuckle left his mouth as he attempts to hide his crushed feelings. "Why ask me that? I'm here to take you home."

Roland steals a glance towards Triela before returning his attention to the boy he now knows as Frederick. "…you know him, Triela?"

Triela nods. "He's with the girl who attacked me earlier. I…saved him once before."

"Did you know that I was on steady with her before…what's your name?"

Roland takes a step back. "Roland Adler."

"Roland Adler…the son of Nicholas Adler, the German scientist and physicist part of the R&D department, correct? Your father's a great man…while he's alive."

Roland's lips tremble. Not only did he know his name nor is he once a part of Triela's life, this boy knows the name of his father and the job he took. Clutching his pistol hard in his palm, the German boy steadies his aim as he tries to resist the sudden urge to run. His head constantly suggests—no, more accurately _urges_ him to take a sprint to the exit. But that too is a risk far too great for the two of them. Not only are they in the 3rd floor of the main school complex, but he doesn't know who his opponent is or what his weapon is. So instead, he asks:

"Who are you?"

His German counterpart chuckles cynically. "I see you have the courage. Since your life won't last long anyway, I might as well tell my name and identity."

He takes a deep breath. "Frederick Heckler Koch, the 'son' of William Koch and a part of the Italian Social Welfare Agency's operatives. I've been assigned to return her home and eliminate all who interferes in our way!"

With a grin on his face, the boy known as Frederick rips open his instrument case and reveals his weapon: a modified, silenced StG 44 Assault Rifle.

"GET AWAY!"

His sights were aligned, his eyes were as clear as crystal, and his weapon's barrel howls for blood. With that, his rifle roars.

##

_The blades of the helicopter roars loudly as the dedicated pilots rush the band of operatives and handlers away from the mansion. It was a trap, and for the entire operation the operatives of the Social Welfare Agency had been spoon-fed with baits, traps and deceit. Henrietta has sustained injury in combat, while some were shaken as they saw their friends crippled in the mission. Triela was no different. A moment ago she was fighting alongside the new male operative, back to back, together, as they advance and defend themselves from hordes of PRF regulars and fanatics mercilessly pummeling them with what they had as the two attempts to clear the mansion. _

_It was no easy task. _

_Earlier, Henrietta was wounded and was forced to evacuate with the assistance of Angelica. With Triela and Frederick the only two active operative, the task befell upon their responsibility to finish it. It was not until Frederick covered his partner did everything went terrible in the eyes of Triela. Out of self-conscious, Frederick pushed Triela away from harm's way and single-handedly took the blow from 3 AK-armed PRF supporters at medium range. He knew her shotgun would not suffice the distance between them and their assault rifle, and he knew she was the more experienced operative despite of his more mature age. Therefore, it is his responsibility—he thought—to be the 'older brother' that will protect her. He will be the 'older brother' who will watch over her and guide her out of harm in any situation. That, eventually, became his living principle as he was hauled off back to the SWA Headquarters until further notice. Beside him, Triela grasp upon his bloodied hand, not willing to let go. _

_##  
_

Run. It was all she could think of. Run away, far from this madness. Far, far away from what has been happening all around her and whatever will happen to her. Her mental state declares how she was fed up with how much pressure she has to take, how much nonsense she has to swallow in a matter of 24 hours. She partly wanted to blame Hillshire for putting her into this mess, and yet that couldn't be the solution. Then she wanted to blame Roberta Guelfi, Hillshire's lover, for driving her away from her home unintentionally. But that too is unacceptable. Finally, she could only blame herself for her greed and lust for freedom that was laid bare before her in the days of her service.

Muffin was right, she thought.

The Agency did provide her with a so-called 'freedom'. She was granted the ability to walk freely, but not to explore. She was granted the ability to love, but not to approach. She was granted another life, but is not allowed to control it. Then again, she asks, was there freedom from the start? Has her previous relationship with Frederick were nothing but a tool used by the Agency itself to maintain her fragile loyalty under Hillshire's influence? She grits her teeth in annoyance to how the way her mind works. If so, then Frederick, too, is nothing more than a victim of the Agency's manipulation; everyone is part of the game, everyone was nothing more than puppets under the puppeteer. And when one came loose, the puppeteer is quick to apprehend in the midst of the performance and find the source.

Roland held tight to Triela's hand as she pulls him away to safety before dragging fleeing away with him. Footsteps echo not far behind them as they jump down the stair and hustle through the corridor as a burst of rounds ricochet nearby. Triela knew Frederick's capability in close-quarters combat; his style, his feats, and his proficiency. At this point, Frederick's merely toying with them, probing them and drove them to a corner where he can easily close in for the kill.

"_A 9mm pistol won't scare the shit out of him…!" _She thought. _"What we need now is an HE 20mm grenade launcher!" _

Roland, on the other hand, grits his teeth for his incapability to protect the one he loves.

##

_Nine months. All he needs to execute his vengeance is a time of nine months. On March, after an incident at Apartment 5 in Rome, Frederick went missing along with the collapse of the apartment. It was by his stroke of luck which allowed him to escape the inflamed destruction of the apartment as explosions set earlier by his foe rips the building apart, sending splinters, bricks and dust flying as makeshift shrapnel. The collapsing floor and his mechanical body became his grace as he impacted down to the first floor before immediately rushing out towards the sewers. He listens between the graters the call of firemen, the sirens from police cars, ambulance, fire trucks, the scream of agony from pedestrian and certain individual, the clicks and questions from reports, as well as the scream and hysteria of sadness from those he knew._

_The cry of hysteria and agony from none other than Triela_

_He decided to leave despite the urges he felt within to stay. He knows there are things must be done, things that he can accomplish while he is missing from the Agency's file. For nine months he left, never heard from again from the rest of the Agency and the world. For once, he was forgotten except to those that yearn for his return, those who wish to see him again. _

_On December 24__th__, after 9 months of tracking and secretly aiding the Agency, Frederick returns to the Agency and the arms of Triela Hartmann, promising never to leave her behind._

_##  
_

Triela bit her lip as she ran down the stairs with Roland dragged behind her. Her left hand clutches his arm tight, unwilling to let go despite his slightest struggle. She recognizes and respects his attempt to stand and fight from how he clutches his pistol. She knew both Roland and her were in a tight disadvantage considering Fredericks superior agility in close quarters and his superb weapons handling. Returning to the gym would definitely lead to their demise and is too risky for the both of them. What if Muffin had won the battle against Rachel? Wouldn't running back to the gym meant running straight into the lion's jaw? But what if Rachel had won? Wouldn't she be there to cover her? But what if she had left the area?

No matter. All that thought doesn't matter anymore.

Triela at this time had clearly underestimated the capability of her opponent. She was nowhere near an advantageous point within the small corridors of the building. What she can hope for is to have Frederick tailing her enough to an advantageous position—a classroom, as such—and set a barricade or a trap enough for them to delay his move and escape. Whatever she has in her head were all considered impossible or risky, and she knew all of it by heart. Having been bred as an operative in the Agency, she knew the best way to apprehend the situation is through an exchange of gunfire and bloodshed.

But she refuses to accept it.

Within her she knew she had left that life of her far behind, locked away deep in her past. She remembers Frederick, of course, a character who is dear to her even up to the day she kissed Roland. It was at that moment did everything was locked up deep within her memory, a past she wished to forget. 'It's a new life', she thought often. One day, she hoped to have 'freed' her friends from the Agency someway, somehow. Someday she wished to show the rest of her friends how beautiful life is outside the grasp of the Agency. How colorful it is in contrast with the bleak texture of the walls of the Agency. Most of all, she wanted them to flap their wings and reach towards a greater goal, a future, than a pre-determined fate in the grasp of the Agency.

Her liberal thoughts and her run were soon interrupted. It was at a moment's notice did he manage to flank her, jumping down from a set of stairs 10 meters away. His trench coat hovers like a robe before settling down quietly, revealing two of his holstered Mauser C/96 on his side and his all-too familiar field grey jacket reminiscence to that of the Wehrmacht grenadiers. His right hand's wielding the silenced StG44 with finesse as he narrows his eyes towards his prey, swinging the barrel of the gun towards his target like a shark closing in for the kill. It was to his advantage to have to fight them in a confined indoor setting where he excels, in contrast with an outdoor assault or infiltration. It is in this type of arena could he show the true capability of the Agency's prototype mechanical body.

It's ability, a perk he calls 'wired reflexes'.

It was at that moment did Triela noticed how cornered she was; to her right is the chemistry lab, while to her left is a window leading down to the 1st floor from a long two-story drop. No, all her dreams of freedom were like unreachable stars. It was all so soon that it has to be taken away. In a moment's notice, her body froze like a statue of salt.

Not giving any chances, the assault rifle howls.

##

_Frederick takes a deep breath and sighs the crisp air, marking the fall season. A month after this will be winter, and he could barely taste and smell the chilly winter breeze. Yet tonight he was kept warm as he walks side by side with the girl he cares for. Her dark skin of and blonde hair never did explicitly expose her Tunisian-German heritage from the rest of her friends; he himself figured it out a near month ago after Triela and Hillshire's return from seeing an 'old friend'. 'Tunisia' she said, 'I was born in Tunisia' is what he remember. Despite of this, Frederick could notice the rather heavy German-accent she constantly expels during their conversation together. _

_Suddenly, she turns to stop him and face him. "Frederick…"_

_The boy stutteringly answers her, both in surprise and in an awe of her figure. "Y-yes…?" _

"_Listen…" she sighs. "If I ever decide to leave this place, this home of mine—our home…what will you do?" _

_Frederick pause, narrowing his brow and let a sigh "I might try to stop you, prevent you and possibly hunt you down if you managed to do so."_

_The girl frowns as Frederick let out a chuckle. A pat on her head was the answer she receives "…but most importantly, I'll cover you as much as I possibly can." _

_##  
_

Blood splashed across the wall and drips on the floor. With a quick reflex, Triela immediately pull the two of them through the doors of the chemistry lab and locks the door for a slight sense of false security. Her attention then turn towards Roland who sat there, leaned by the walls of the chemistry painted red by his blood. He struggles to maintain his composure, but failed to do so the moment he sees the crimson ooze in his hand—the black muck leaking from his stomach. Grinding his teeth, Roland grasps his wound. No screams today, no cries today.

"Roland…oh no…!" cupping her mouth, Triela knew the dangers of Roland's situation. The dark colored blood meant the bullet was lodged deep inside him, possibly breaking his veins.

She knew Roland would not survive without immediate assistance.

Attempting to cheer her up, Roland let out a chuckle. "T-this…? Oh, this is nothing…I-I guess." He looks around the room. "…you just have to pick the chemistry lab of all places, huh?"

"Stay quiet." She replies. "I'll be treating your wound for a time. At least you'll be ok, at least…"

With a finger, Roland silences Triela abruptly. Shaking his head, he gestures her to run across the other door behind them. He too, as the son of a doctor, knew the danger he's facing. He knew he will definitely slow her down. Out of all things, he understands the capability of their opponent, Frederick, and his wired reflexes. Two is a little too much for them, and two is a little too greedy. Sighing, Roland lifts Triela's right hand and hands her his pistol. "Take my pistol."

Triela widens her eyes. Roland interrupts once again.

"Take it. Here's the backup magazine. I know you can use it for your survivability."

"…but…Roland…"

"I'll be a drag to you if I tag along…" he squirms in pain. "Best just to leave me here; I'll hold him off as long as I can."

Triela recognizes this situation all too well. She knew this is the best option available for her if she is willing to survive. And yet to obtain such dream, it requires her to sacrifice someone dear to her to the devil that crept closer and closer at every second. She swallows a lump of her spit as she was forced upon a decision she dreaded. Her conscious secretly cried and cried in response to Frederick's actions, asking 'why, why, why'. She wonders what has become of him.

Tapping Triela's shaken shoulder, Roland forces a smile between his tormented face. "Go…run!"

##

_As he stares out the window of the train, Frederick ponders why the hell he agreed upon this decision and how he hated himself for agreeing to it. There exists an oddity with this, a bulge in the fragile line that borders his conscious from his mission. Sure, Triela and Hillshire did escape the Agency with Claes' help but everything for him is going too smooth. That night he noticed the unusually small number of guards patrolling the compound. Along with it, the majority of the guards that went on patrol that night were new recruits or trainees. Rachel noticed this too, but decided to 'let it slide' as it is considered insignificant to the investigation._

_But it was not only the guards. Upon search of Hillshire's office, Frederick noticed how Hillshire conveniently acquire such information. The German knew the extremely high risk and responsibility he's taking upon escaping the Agency's grip, and yet that night he and Triela attempted to—and succeed—escape the claws of the Agency. It was a 'milk a run; smooth and easy._

_Far too smooth and easy_

_It was as if he was fed with the idea and information. The guard patrol rosters, routes, locations, followed with the exact time—and date—when the Agency's security camera shuts down for regular maintenance. It was all too smooth to be planned single-handedly._

"_The PRF and the Mafia would love to get their hands on such information…" he thought. "…an accomplice's assistance, perhaps?"_

_Yet that thought never did reached conclusion after weighing the possibility, advantages and risks of having an accomplice from the inside—having one outside is impossible considering how much information he can obtain. "Fuck it…" _

_He sighs._

"_Fuck it all." He sighs, chuckling the next second when 'FUBAR' runs up to his mind. "Fucking Hillshire…you're an idiot for actually swallowing and taking those intel for granted. The mouse is in the trap, I guess…fucking SWA spoon-fed him all those for years and expected him to leave to easily terminate him."_

_He chuckles noticing how a factor was out of the loop. "I guess they never expected you to be dragging Triela along with you."_

_He sighs heavily, down-casting his head in disappointment and regret. "Triela…what have I come to be? I'm sorry for my incapability..." _

_With that, he narrows his eyes and stares across the horizon. "I'll find you, and when I do I'll make sure to warn you of the dangers you'll be facing." _

_##  
_

The door bursts open. Between the frames of the doorway, Frederick stands tall with his weapon holstered to his right. His eyes wonder through the gaseous chemistry lab between rows and rows of chemicals neatly lined up against the boxes and frames as well as those that stands idly within shelves cupboards. His vision wanders for a moment, feeling as if sent to a psychedelic world as each second he inhales the air within the chemistry lab. His eyes grew tired by the second, and soon he realized what it's all about.

"Anesthetics…fuck…" he curses, covering his nose and mouth with his arm. Determined on his objective, he ventures forward into the gaseous chemistry lab following the blood trails left on the floor. "What the f-…my eyes…"

"Its chloroform"

The voice across from him reacted to him like blade that slashed through his eyes. It drove him mad, it drove him insane, and it drove him towards anger. It was the only catalyst existed that placed him in the side of the Agency, against his promises and oaths as an 'older brother'. Now, the catalyst was rested by the bloodied wall, in pain, in fear. Not far from his position were several bottles of chemicals; all opened, spilled, while some were shattered to release its hazardous contents. The boy clearly, from what Frederick can judge, is experiencing the similar effects of chloroform inhalation. His eyes were droopy, and yet it was by pure determination that he managed to stay conscious.

"…did you know, Frederick?" he start, "…that hydrogen is a very-very flammable gas? How about butane? Did you know that it is also a very-very flammable gas?"

"Sorry, chemistry is not my specialty."

The boy, Roland, chuckles. "Not mine either. But it did give me some insight…"

His finger points towards what seems to be a faucet linked to an experiment table. But not just any faucet; this faucet reeks of gas used for cooking when turned on and was clearly the other gaseous element that surrounds the lab aside from chloroform. As if enlightened, Frederick's mind was opened towards the situation that he faced.

"…it's a trap…"

"Bingo." Roland reply. "Admiral Ackbar was right all along, isn't he?"

Grinning victoriously, Roland lifts up a mechanical lighter common in the chemistry lab. His finger is in position, requiring a yank which could definitely turn the entire room into a gas trap, incinerating everything in and around it. Frederick's legs were telling him to 'run!', and yet his mind grew tired and uncooperative, clearly succumbing to the effect of the drug. Despite the resistance, Frederick bolted back to the way he came before to save his own life.

Roland, with burning determination in his eyes, prepares to take the life of his opponent and his.

"_So…I guess this is it." _He thought. _"I never thought things would end up this way. Seriously, how bad can life be?"_

It was as if there was a pause in his surrounding, as if time freeze just for the sake of letting him hearing his inner thoughts. As if God was there, listening to his last words before returning to His arms.

"_My life…? I don't think I'm that satisfied with it. There were ups and downs, regrettable actions here and there. I knew I did not inherit my father's love for science, and yet still I take on the challenge." _His consciousness let out an insulting laughter. _"I was a fool, I guess. A fool for trying so hard to satisfy my father's wish…someone else's wish, not mine." _

He grits his teeth in disappointment. _"Triela, Triela…I knew there are things you tried to keep away from me; I know. I knew from the start of it all that you are one of my father's patient, a cyborg, an escapee from the Italian Social Welfare Agency. I knew it all the moment I got my hands on father's patient dossiers which—unfortunately—has your name written on it. In it read the records and the operation performed as well as other information."_

He pauses.

"…_and yet I couldn't resist myself. I couldn't resist myself from falling head over heels to you, watching you at a distance in utmost curiosity of what you really are, what defines you, what you really like in person. Maria caught wind of it I guess, figures she tried to pair us together at one point." _He pauses, contemplating his next words. _"I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it to you directly how I knew your origins from the start. I'm sorry for not telling Maria and warn her of the dangers, I'm sorry…" _

Time slowly regains itself as Roland's eye focuses on the figure bolting ahead of him in a relatively slow motion. He remembers his original intention upon staying behind, wounded and vulnerable in the lab in order to provide enough time for Triela to escape the vicinity. Lastly, in conclusion to his own life tales, Roland let out a sigh of satisfaction.

"_I guess I managed to do my part after all…I'm not a useless man to you, right Triela?" _his finger tenses and his nerves responds to his neural sensors. In twitch, his finger clicks on the mechanical lighter. Immediately, flames lick the gaseous air of the lab, torching and burning everything in its path in an instant. Bottles containing flammable liquid bursts into shards as its content burns along with everything in its path as the flame tongue lick the air, purging and cleansing those considered 'impure', finally devouring Roland's wounded body. Despite all this, his soul was satisfied.

"_I love you, Triela. Father, I'm coming home…" _

_##  
_

_He froze. Not because of the cold, the anxiety or the rain. He froze at that exact position for an undetermined length of time, under the shelter of the falling rain and dark clouds above, stunned at the sight he now behold. His hand clenches at his chest presumably his heart, wounded as if a knife tore right through his mental barrier and butchered his last composure, optimism and sanity considering his existence here in Berlin. The flames of his heart glow brighter than the night sky as the demon within him arises, cursing the existence of the two lovebirds presented before his sight. _

_Yes, it was that night. It was that very night did Frederick Heckler felt he has lost everything. _

_Having been raised in Berlin, Frederick knew every corner and streets. Unconsciously, during his early age, the young boy memorized the map of Berlin out of entertainment and excitement. Unfortunately, he was outside at that time after volunteering from the rest of his group to fetch some midnight snacks in their childish games at their hotel. Taking the U-Bahn and dropping at the closest station, he was expecting to come upon a quiet street where an old mini market is located a few blocks away. Instead, it was this vile sight did he encountered; a sight that robbed him of his optimism._

_Under the rain, there stood the girl he longed and searched for months. The girl he was worried sick about for weeks end; the girl who now stood 30 feet away from him, caressed, embraced and loved by another man. Instantly, she became the girl who robbed him away of his emotions, his optimism and his ideals. Instantly, his objective changed to that against his naïve ideals, and to one that is loyal to the Agency. _

"…_I found you, Triela Hartmann…!"_

_##  
_

The explosion instantly torched the class and the halls in a second's notice. Far behind her, Triela could clearly hear the small explosion that echoed through the halls followed with the shower from the sprinkler and the cry of the fire alarm. She understands clearly of Roland's intention upon calling the 'officials' into the game by alerting the police and the fire department of the explosion at the school. But she knew how futile such attempts were. She knew how the Agency managed to work its ways around such 'incidents' and eventually lay claim to the case without the knowledge of the supposedly local officers and police. But here, in keeping to her faith, she believes in his judgment.

"Roland…" his image that lingers in her mind tore her, knowing that he died that day for her survivability. "…I'm sorry…"

It was to her utmost regret that she was forced to abandon him. She knows how he clearly supported the idea and urged her to leave him behind, and yet now she held the feeling of regret. Why he couldn't be saved, she thought, why Maria couldn't be saved, she thought. Most importantly, why couldn't she save anyone? It was to her realization did she now recognize how much suffering she has caused to those around her. Her very escaped has riled up the entire hornet's nest which has watched over her for years. Now the very same hornets were the ones hunting her down.

'C-CRACK' her thoughts went through a jumble in an instant. Shards of glass flew all around her as she stumbles to the floor. She tried to stand, and yet once again she tumbles the moment her feet managed to feel the solid floor. Her mind went into bewilderment as she wonders what the hell is happening to her and she notice, without a doubt, the color red and the stream of fluid that runs through her left leg.

"I-I'm hit…? B-but when…?"

The broken shards and the window were soon to be the key to her answers. It was to her realization of how much firepower the Agency is willing to send to leash her, to enslave her once again. A sniper is what she can think of, a sharpshooter none other than Rico Cloche.

Overlooking the school's West corridor, Rico Cloche stands ready with her SVD watching over the halls through her lenses. It was against her will at first to fight her former senior, but it was to her knowledge that it is part of her duty serving under the Agency and under Jean Cloche. Her master acts as her spotter, scanning through his binoculars like an eagle eye waiting for the prey to come into light. His call was accurate and sharp, and his sniper is dedicated and talented to heart. As she pulls the trigger, the bullet ran through the rifled barrel following the movement of the rabbit as she bolted through the hallway just moments before the explosion. Her calculations were perfect ranging from the wind, the distance, height and gravity—it was all in her head. The round soon crashes through the clear window and rips through the synthetic flesh of her target's leg; tripping and tumbling her to her fall and stop.

For once, she was satisfied with her result.

"Target's been immobilized, sir."

"Good job Rico. Stand down, and wait for further orders but stay alert! Frederick should be at the scene soon enough to retrieve the package."

"Yes sir."

Back in the school building, Triela struggles to stand only to be faced with the reality of her immobilization. She expected her nerves to recover in seconds with the effect of her conditioning and medication, but yet the pain steadily increases, burning her leg like hot steel against flesh. Seconds later, she remembers the medication she took from the German doctors in order to remove the Agency's near-permanent medication. Soon, she began to cry in pain.

"kkKKKKAAAAAAHHAAAGGHHHHHHhhhh…!!!!"

Her cry echoed throughout the corridors of the building. Years living under medication have dulled her receptors like morphine against the true feeling of pain, the feeling when flesh were ripped apart by hot steel. With the restoration of her neural receptors and the permanent removal of the effects of the drugs, she began to experience the inflamed feeling of pain for the first time in her life at full expense. Like a god who fall from her throne, Triela felt mortal. She clutches her wound with her hands in hopes to suppress the pain as adrenaline began rushing through her bloodstream, acting as pain relievers and urging her to continue forward. Footsteps were not far behind her.

The clacking noise of his boots alerted her and immediately distracted her attention from her pain to her pursuer. Though charred with black and burned to some, Frederick survived the ordeal with a stroke of fortune. His eyes narrows towards his target mixed with the feeling of anger and nostalgic as he approaches towards her direction step by step, weapons on.

"…he's quite a handful…" he start, clearly referring Roland. "If I was a moment too late, I would have been burned to crisps. Good thing the door was just an inch away."

Triela backed away, dragging herself with her might to stay as far away from him. "Y-you…how could you! Frederick, what has gotten into you!?"

"Me?" he laughs cynically. "Oh, everything's fine here Triela, yes ma-am. Everything's A-okay."

"T-then…"

"Then it is my task to bring you back home, Triela. You've been misbehaving for these past few months, haven't you? I thought we aren't supposed to interact with those _outside _the Agency?"

Her breathing became heavier by the moment as Frederick closes in within arm's reach. Holstering his silenced StG 44, Frederick pulls out a stun gun from the pocket of his trench coat and charges it. The clatter of the gun emitted from the charge of electricity were like laughter to her ears, blatantly telling her how futile her attempts were and how the Agency had once again own the rights to enslave her, just how they had enslave the rest of the children's hearts and minds, unbeknownst to them.

"Hold still, this won't hurt a bit. When you're awake, everything will be ok."

##

_There were doubts in his heart, yes. However, rather than answer that he seeks the boy seeks for revenge and allow the anger to consume him and his emotions. Deep inside of him two Fredericks were battling each other between what he thinks is 'right' and what he desires. A part of him wanted to see Triela free, away from the cruel fate of the children in the Social Welfare Agency in which he believed she doesn't deserve. And yet another part of him wishes her to return by force, to bring her before him kneeling for forgiveness as if to punish her for her action. _

_In the midst of the conflict, in the end, his desires won. _

_It was all too much for him to take. Her sudden disappearance, her new life, the encounters and now, what seems to be her new male companion. She never said goodbye to him that night, never did mention anything about leaving aside from her riddled question which he __**thought**__ was only a playful humor. Now everything became something of a tragic comedy for him, something for him to laugh about of how stupid he is and yet it is also something worth of his tears. He was confused on whether to continue supporting her or to pledge his loyalty to the Agency, but that was moments ago. Maybe, just maybe she thinks of him when she's are all alone—maybe. That too was long buried and neglected deep in his clouded thoughts. Now, as he returns to the floor where his friends and comrades reside, he is determined to bring her back home…_

…_personally_

_##  
_

For it was too quick for her to catch on, too sudden for her to understand what is going on around her as her new life crumbles all around him. She swore she could feel the light sting of electricity as it approaches her now-vulnerable neck. She felt fear grasping around her, strangling her moments ago has now suddenly been lifted the moment a breeze of wind caresses her hair and caused Frederick to back away and drop his stun gun. She turns towards him and finds a knife—a Fairbairn-Sykes dagger, to be exact—puncturing deep in his right arm. Immediately pulling the dagger out of his arm, Frederick immediately turns his attention towards the figure in the dark, slowly closing in before them step by step.

"I have to say that I am disappointed in your decision, 'prince charming'. I thought you will be supporting her."

"…that voice…"

"That's right Frederick, you remember me do you? Two nights ago I beat both you and Muffin in a game of poker!"

A grin surfaces in Frederick's lips.

Meanwhile up on the 'eagle's nest', Jean too noticed the sudden change of situation. It was as if a stranger suddenly runs towards him and steals his valued gem away from his hand in a second's notice, this 'figure' similarly and unexpectedly became their largest obstacle upon capturing Triela—probably the biggest obstacle the Agency had to face yet. Quickly zoning into the figure with the use of his binocular, Jean's eye widens at the sight of him and immediately turns his attention towards his sniper.

"Rico, obstacle at 10 o'clock; proceed with lethal force!"

"I advise you to immediately cease your operation here at once; we do not want any trouble, do we?"

Jean was far too occupied with this new threat to even notice a second sneaking up behind him. Rico, too, had her sights on this mysterious stranger only to immediately turn and run her attention towards the man standing 5 meters behind them. The man grins and sighs calmly, as if they were old friends in a reunion. Jean draws his pistol seconds later and align his sights towards him.

"You…! I never thought you were behind all this!"

"Oh, believe me Jean Cloche, this is just the beginning."

"I never trusted you from the start, you fucking Jew! I should have known you would be hindering us!"

The man chuckles, "I'm sorry, Judaism is not my specialty…and that is my past now; I am a Christian, remember?"

With a grin of confidence in his face, two canisters suddenly drop from beneath his trench coat the moment he finished his taunt. Smoke immediately fills the room causing both Jean and Rico to find any means necessary to cover their nostrils and eyes as they cough from the suffocation with eyes red as pepper. The mysterious stranger simply pulls out his gas mask and breaths normally.

"T-tear gas…!?"

"Close but not quite my dear friend, as this will only hinder and irritate your sights for a while and probably knock you unconscious—it is approved by the IDF, of course. It would not harm you, but it will give enough time for my accomplice to bail Triela out."

Calmly, the man walks away from the room as the _fratello _collapses to the floor. Calmly, he picks up his radio for a situation report from his partner. "This is Echo Bravo; the eagle's nest has been taken care of, and both the mother and the chick are now fast asleep. How is the situation on your side?"

Back in the corridors, the obstacle standing between Frederick and his target calmly picks up his radio and answers in a professional tone. "This is Lima Bravo; the package is in arm's reach. Just have to deal with the Santa for awhile."

"_Roger that. Back up should be by your position soon, hang tight. If all thing's necessary, incapacitate the Santa—he has been neglecting his duty recently."_

"That's an affirmative. Lima Bravo out."

Like words of magic, the 'reinforcement' arrived seconds later with the Fernando and Rachel team closely supporting him. Frederick clicks his tongue at the sight as both sides exchange gazes at one another. Not waiting for orders and trusting in the protection of her comrade, Rachel rushes forward and immediately assisted Triela first by helping her up on her feet and soon back to 'friendly lines'. Turning towards the figure, a 'thanks' escape her lips as a form of gratitude.

"It couldn't be done without your help. You did your part against Muffin, now I'll do mine. Go! We'll meet you in our pre-planned meeting spot."

As both Rachel and Fernando walks away and Triela in the safety of their hands, the boy returns his full attention back towards his opponent. "So Frederick, how would you like to have a good old CQC with knives and daggers?"

A grin of confidence and a slight aura of arrogance escape his lips. "Feeling a little confident now, are you? Alright, I'll play fair…!"

Stepping out of the shadows, the boy pulls his combat knife from his shoulder-mount sheath as his Germanic opponent pulls his from his waist. Bowing down politely—as if taunting him—the figure said calmly and confidently,

"Let me reintroduce myself. I am Luke Barrohk, here currently as Triela's unofficial bodyguard."

"How amusing…! Then I'm Frederick H. Koch…DON'T GET IN MY WAY!!"

Right in the moment when the bell strike 6, the sounds of clashing blades echoed throughout the hallway as Triela walks further and further away from the two male operatives under the guidance of Rachel and Fernando. Secretly, her eyes wander back, wondering what had gotten into Frederick and lamenting the cost of her freedom.

Roland's gone and this she knows all too well. Her last kiss with him was her way of apologizing to him, though she knew this was not enough. And yet no tears were shed from her, probably because she was too tired crying for herself over what she thought as her own selfish desires.

**Author's Note****  
**

**This will be my last 2 cents for now. I'm facing exams tomorrow so I won't be able to write or plan as much as I do from the past. But here it is, chapter 16. Expect the 'Detective's Daughter' to actually run further than what you expect. Also, expect the detective's daughter to get more depressing as each chapter passes by and possibly more angsty. Hey, this is a tragedy after all--not romance.**

**Oh yes, this chapter has some sort of 'reference' to my other fic--namely the title. After I finish 'The Detective's Daughter', I'll try to work on the other one as I refresh myself with the new FMA.**

**Luke and Ehud Barrohk are copyright of Colonel Marksman. All characters involving IDF and Israeli killer lawbringer belongs to him. Fernando and Rachel belongs to ElfenMagix.**

**Frederick Heckler is a character created by me, and thus is copyright of Panzer IV. Any other character involving killer cyborg lolis belong to Yu Aida and his work, 'Gunslinger Girl'.  
**

**Next chapter:**

**_Brotherhood ~Frederick H. & Luke Barrohk~_  
**


	18. Chapter 17: Brotherhood

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 17: Brotherhood (Frederick H. & Luke B.) **

_The looks upon their faces were considered to be the most unique and memorable in the entire timeline of the SWA. The day when Frederick Heckler Koch, first administered into active duty under the guidance of William Koch met face to face with Luke Barrohk who came to visit with Ehud Barrohk, his handler. The SWA owed the two Israeli pair from Childville for their uncalled service against the threat of an unknown villain only known as 'G.D. Wallez'. Despite the end of their service, the fact that Claes unexpectedly converted into Christianity and was attached to Luke romantically hinders the Agency's attempt to permanently delete dossiers linking to the involvements of Ehud and Luke and through time became a thorn in the side of the SWA as Ehud could prove to be a viable ally or a dangerous threat knowing how large his network spans. As the two individual operatives cross paths, the lives of two would be changed by the presence of one another, and the bond forged between them._

_However, at this point of time their bond had just begun. _

_Frederick, once known as Hans Miltz, was raised in a family with bloodlines linking to two members of the Waffen-SS and the SS Liebstandarte during Hitler's reign in Nazi Germany respectively. He was taught of anti-Semitic ideals; those brought down by the family since and had kept those beliefs in and after the Allied/Soviet occupation of Germany. Although such beliefs and ideals were diminishing, the knowledge and the teaching still exist within the mind of Frederick Heckler. _

_Of all, Frederick is an anti-Semite. _

"_Heh…a Jew." Those were the first word Frederick spat at the sight of Luke, showing signs of arrogance and dominance over the more veteran operative. "Don't you have a job to do? Like scraping the streets or licking boots of the higher ups or something?"_

_Luke, despite the insult thrown at him, maintains his composure and his eyes towards the German. _

"_Frederick! Watch your tongue!" warn William, Frederick's handler who's immediately met with ignorance and arrogance from his operative. He then proceeds upon apologizing towards Ehud and Luke. "I apologize for the rudeness of my operative. He seems to inherit such traits from his family."_

"_You need not to mention it, friend." Ehud reply, calmly with a raise of his hand. "I've experienced such attitude from the likes of my countrymen."_

_Despite the hostility garnered by Frederick towards Luke, this act was the first few steps towards their bond. It was their first step towards brotherhood. _

_##__  
_

The sprinkler operates continuously, wetting the halls after the recent explosion that set the whole school extinguisher system on alert. The cool water flies through the damped halls in accordance with pressure generated from each sprinkler before immediately swept at a different direction by the wind, generated by the fast movements of two combat knives. Each blade cuts through the element before creating sparks; sparks that light beautifully with each gash of stainless steel. The Israeli display an expression of pure seriousness and concentration mixed with excitement and eagerness as he consciously moves his body to that of which he was trained of. His eyes follow the movements of his foe like an eagle to its prey, striking and timing precisely to synchronize with his opponent's attacks.  
The German moves differently and yet as efficiently as his opponent. His strikes were strong and steady, fast and accurate as it hosts a large sum of power. The structure of his combat knife—a 'Knuckle Duster'—supports this even further as he switches each end of the knife with each consecutive strikes; two with the forehand, one with a backhand. The Fairbairn Sykes dagger used by the Israel proved its durability far greater than it was expected against the much tougher 'Knuckle Duster' in the hands of the talented young Israeli. In a blink, the quick hand of the Israeli aims for the chest of his opponent with little opening provided only to break the battle as the German catches the movement, in time for him to jump two steps backwards to regain his balance and take his position. He grins with excitement, pleased and entertained towards his opponent's finesse.

"It has been some time since we've fought each other Luke!" Frederick said with a light-hearted tone. "I remember the first time we actually did engage in a knife fight!"

The Israeli, absorbed in the moment and excitement, replies with a smile of confidence in his face. "Yeah, I do to. I even remember your arrogant face coming at me and challenging me; tough luck for you, Frederick!"

"Hey, I was young and stupid. Uneducated! Not this time, buddy!" Frederick readies his K-Bar once again. His stance resembles that of a tiger against its prey. "This time, I'm here to return the favor!"

"Be my guest!"

His boot kicks, thrusting him forward as he aims for the most vulnerable points of his opponents. The two blades immediately cuts through the wind and the droplets of water before once again clash with each other, creating sparks and the echoing sounds of steel across the damped hallway.

_##_

_Luke immediately drops what he is doing the moment he notice the same figure which 'greeted' him a few weeks back came to him. Resting his knitting tools beside Claes', his eyes instantly focus' itself towards the arrogant tone of the male German operative who blatantly challenge him in a knife fight—unbeknownst to their handler. Claes, who too had never met him face to face before was similarly dumbfounded at the sight of the new operative and was boiling deep down considering his reaction towards Luke. She did have the urge to leap up and stab him in the eye for interrupting the two of them, but she restrains such act when she is in the presence of Luke. _

"_That's what I'm saying, you Jewish prick!" taunt Frederick, "Get out of here and fight me like a man! Or do you prefer to knit? Aww…isn't that cute?"_

"_You're pretty arrogant for a rookie." _

_Frederick snide, rolls his eyes to the side in annoyance and responds, "Typical…you Jews are all coward. Bootlickers and whores…no wonder you became the thorn of Germany!"_

_At this instant, Claes was too blinded by her rage and would gladly kill him in the most suffocating way if released from her restraints. Slowly, she did began to took off her glasses and secure it in her case. One who is not observant could not see, but those who are could see the burning anger and the expanding intention to kill this anti-Semite right in the room. After all, there is only the presence of the three of them in this room. Sighing, Luke taps Claes shoulder to ease her temper before facing the intruder eye to eye. _

"_Alright, fine. If it is a fight you want, it's a fight you get."_

"_Good! Then meet me at the training grounds! Remember, knives only! But go ahead if you wish to bring your knitting tool and knit."_

_Grinning, Luke reply, "See you there."_

_##  
_

Slash! The blade of the Fairbairn slices through wind and water before gashing the artificial flesh. The German leap backwards, retreating after having felt the attack that sliced through his cheek and nose. Feeling through the cut, he grins in satisfaction of his opponent's capability and his mastery in CQC. Clearly, in the eyes of Frederick Heckler, Luke is one not to be trifled with. He enjoys the company of the Israeli in the battle as he thirst for the excitement that long had been replaced with boredom over the Agency's repetitive missions and assignments. He admires the sight of how the Israeli tailored his strikes to his nation's self-defense technique—Krav Maga—and use it with efficiency against Frederick's own, taught by his deceased handler. Keeping his stance ready, Frederick grins.

"That's some slick move there, Luke. Nice one…"

"Thanks." Reply the Israeli. "I don't get much praises these days. Does that sting?"

"Oh, I've had worse. This…" Frederick leaps towards his foe, once again attempting to strike Luke's vital points. "…IS NOTHING!!"

Clicking his tongue, Luke raises his dagger in quick succession against Frederick's more powerful and violent strikes. Repeatedly Luke attempts to disarm Frederick, landing kicks right in the guts and the groin only to be blocked or parried by the German who constantly eyes for the small opening his opponent rarely reveal. Immediately noticing the slight advantage Frederick gained, Luke backs away at second's notice as the German lands a swift strike across his waist, tearing the garment of the Israeli before it slowly soaks red. It was far from fatal, and yet it slightly 'opened' the eyes of the Israeli how he exploited a little too much of an opening.

"…not bad Frederick, not bad at all." Luke commented, "I guess your eyes are starting to catch up with my movements."

"Krav Maga? Hah! William's CQC is based on that. Keeping up with you is not much of a hassle!"

A grin slowly takes shape across Luke's face. "Feeling a little confident now, are you? Well, I guess playtime's over!"

"Bring it on!"

As the German once again readies his stance, the Israeli rushes forward and locks his dagger with his opponent's trench knife. Steel once again met steel as the two of them attempts to outmatch one another. Kicks and punches streaks across their faces as each were parried with their arms and legs followed with a swift defensive maneuver with their respective knife against a secondary knife attack each aimed at their vulnerable points. Again, elements were sliced as wind and water passes through the sharp face of the blades before impacting one another and traces each with divine speed. They strike high and low, fast and furious as they thirst for victory over one another. From their eyes, once could see the eagerness between the two of them to end the battle as cutting winds breezes across them towards their blades. Each kicks meant time, and each strikes meant precious seconds which live little to no room for mistakes.  
More than once did one of them managed to topple the other repetitively only to be greeted with a ferocious counterattack. A kick landed across Frederick's chest after he accidentally exposed his defenses, pummeling him towards the wall. As Luke closes in for the kill, Frederick recovers from the impact in seconds and utilizes the environment to his advantage starting with the nearby fire extinguisher. The red canister lit up and jetted erratically across the distance between them, enough as a threat towards Luke's advance and provided enough distraction for him to counterattack. The canister flies pass the Israeli, spraying CO2 gasses mercilessly and proven to be quite a distraction for Luke as he covers his eyes, failing to notice the swift tackle across his legs by the recovered German. Luke stumbles, losing his Fairbairn in the process and coughs before immediately attempts to regain control of his numbed body resulted from the impact—in time to block an attack aimed at his neck. Their eyes glare at the sight of their opponent's stubbornness and determination as Frederick locks in for his victory. Blood runs through the veins of the Israel as he unwilling to surrender, giving him more strength followed with the assistance of his steel prosthetics and enhancement. Adrenaline runs through his blood, pumping more and more oxygen as he desperately attempts to survive.

It is the feeling that makes him human.

With his arms locked on Frederick's, his legs became his weapon as to what he has been taught. A swift and powerful strike to the stomach—once, twice, followed with a kick towards his opponent's chest to give him enough time for recovery and a dash towards his neglected dagger. With an eye locked towards his stunned opponent, Luke rushes forward with a clear intention upon disarming and ending the duel once and for all; it, however, never follow through. Upon noticing the approaching panther, Frederick kicks the small pool of water formed earlier by the activated fire sprinkler as a form of distraction and a 'shield' for his approach. Pulling his arm back to a forehand position as the Israeli covers his eyes from the splash, Frederick strikes viciously as Luke attempts recover. With his trench knife tightly secured in his now-sweaty palm and its blade protruding on the opposite direction of his thumb, the steel blade swiftly slices through wind and water towards the Israeli with deadly precision as it closes in to its foe with no second to lose.

The school's fire sprinkler, finally, died down.

_##_

_As the sun sets in the distance, the echoing clash of steel died down in the Agency's field as it let out a loud cry one last time. The bulkier trench knife flew high up in the sky, spinning and spinning before landing perfectly in an upward position with its blade struck deep in the soil. Battered and slightly bloodied, the German operative looks up towards the silhouette of the boy who has easily defeated him and whose knife now pointed down at his throat. He's just playing with him all along, he thought, all along the Israeli has been toying with his emotions and abilities to measure his capability before landing a killing blow. As Frederick curses deep in his heart and how he does not accept this humiliating defeat, his opponent spoke in a clear voice._

"_Rule no. 1: never let your emotions take over." He said calmly. "All this time you and your prejudice has been the driving force behind your blind strikes."_

_Frederick turns his face away and clicks his tongue. "…can't believe I lost to a…"_

"_Rule no. 2: stay focus and keep your attention to your opponent's movement. Your arrogance had pretty much blinded you through the entire battle."_

_Finally, with a grin in his face, Luke draws away his dagger and sheaths it back to his shoulder. "Rule no. 3: don't forget to introduce yourself before engaging in a spar. You rushed in without even telling me who I'm fighting against!" _

_Finishing his sentence, Luke draws his right arm. "I'm Luke Barrohk. It's nice to meet you…eh…"_

"_Frederick." The German answers, reluctantly accepting the hand of his foe. Secretly, a smile draws across his face. "Frederick H. Koch. It's…quite a pleasant fight." _

"_I guess sometimes fists do most of the talking." Luke chuckles. "So, what brings you here?"_

_It was as if the teachings of his family were to disappear, to vanish. As if those ideals of a 'perfect human', an 'Aryan', were to dissolve the moment he clash fists with the Israeli. One of the many things such teachings lack was the basic proof. The fight and the following conclusion has indirectly gave him the evidence he needs to confirm whether or not such ideals and teachings were true—about how Jews were merciless cold blooded bootlickers who slaughters those who oppose them mindlessly; animals, to that regard, heavily referencing them to the ongoing, everlasting conflict raging in the Middle East. Yet he has shown kindness and compassion to those he managed to conquer to which he reluctantly accepts, but yet grateful to do so. _

"…_that detail isn't registered in my head. Never did remember why I'm here in the first place." Frederick reply. "…you're different for some reason…"_

"_Different? What do you mean?"_

"…_nothing." He let out a chuckle, swinging his arm and jabbing his new friend's arm playfully. "Nothing at all…"_

_Their return is greeted with the glaring eyes of the handler, and soon the incident was covered up. It was as if their little undeclared war never happened. _

_##  
_

It is the last strike needed to finally end the stalemate. The attack needed to close the short-lived conflict between them, and all it takes is a swift counterattack at the precise and right moment to crush the opponent's fighting capability. As the blood thirsty blade closes in, a curve followed with a grin transpires in the lips of Frederick as he finally managed to settle a victory over his friend after 3 years since their first clash. Despite having regretted the entire ordeal, the young German could not help the feeling of victory and joy he secretly longed for. Victory is finally achieved, he thought. Finally it's his for the taking.

Yet it was all just a dream; a dream by an optimistic fool who is overwhelmed and blinded by his confidence and overreliance on skills and techniques alone. Never did he count experience as part of the entire ordeal.

As the trench knife runs towards the throat of the young Israeli, the boy unexpectedly uses his palm and catches the blade midair in a desperate yet successful attempt to regain foothold. With his knowledge in Krav Maga, immediately he locks his Germanic opponent and forcibly disarms before sending him away with a swift kick to the chest, stunning him momentarily as he smashes one of the metal lockers and heavily dent it. In swift second Luke equips Frederick's trench knife as he holsters his dagger while quickly—but slowly—closes in towards Frederick's distance. Regaining his sense and realizing his situation, Frederick attempts to reach for his holstered Mauser C/96 but stopped when his knife lies pointed at his throat by none other than Luke Barrohk.

"Don't. Even. Think. About it…!"

Gritting his teeth in disarray and clutching his sweaty palm, Frederick reluctantly let out a sigh of defeat and unconditionally surrenders. "…guess it's your win once again…"

"You find this fun? Exciting?"

"Yeah…"

"Next time, take me seriously when it considers yours or someone else's life!"

A silenced H&K USP is quickly drawn from under Luke's coat seconds later. With eyes bewildered, Frederick watch as Luke fires the pistol down to his waist in quick succession. Holding tight to his wound, Frederick felt a sudden sense of vulnerability that overwhelms him in seconds which cause him to fight for his fading consciousness. Looking up towards the barrel of the smoking pistol and then the face of the gunman, Frederick clenches his teeth and attempts to spat, yet no words escape his lips.

"It's a tranquilizer drug, don't worry. You're pretty much unharmed by the shot. The drug was developed by no other than the man who caused chaos and mayhem to the Agency years ago. You might have heard 'G.D. Wallez', before?"

"…you…bastard…!"

"Don't worry. Childville have slightly modified the structure of the drug as a response against the Agency's junior operatives. Depending on the amount of conditioning you took, this drug will modified such content and will put you to a momentary sleep. By the time you're up, everything will be over."

Frederick lost consciousness moments later, slumped by the lockers with his head down. Sighing, Luke tosses his trench knife by his side, returning it before walking towards the direction where Rachel and Triela headed before. He enters the scene with a clear determination, and now he left the scene with great regret and burden as he left his friend far behind him. Clicking his tongue, Luke turns his head back to where Frederick lies.

"I'm disappointed with your decision, Frederick. So much for her happy ending…!"

As the sirens echoes in the distance, the Israeli victoriously yet regretfully walk away.

**Author's Note****  
****During the process of writing this chapter, Colo-sen hinted and gave many suggestions to how I should approach this chapter since—as you may have notice—it involves the participation of his OC, Luke Barrohk. After going through a handful of videos revolving around the practice of Israeli self-defense, the Krav Maga, I notice the sudden rise of difficulty in writing this chapter after recognizing how complicated it is to emphasize such moves in the chapter. The knife fight idea and the following conclusion was the result of a number of drafts and afterthought after going through the videos. Originally, it is planned for Luke to draw his pistol and finishes off Frederick—literally. That was scrapped when I have better idea revolving Frederick and Luke, but I won't go that far. Though short, I feel a slight satisfaction after reading through it for the second time. I actually let out a grin when reading through the 'battle scene' and the conclusion.  
**


	19. Chapter 18: Like Running through Rain

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Chapter 18: Like Running through Rain without getting Wet**

Finishing the knot on Triela's bandage, a heavy sigh escapes a satisfied Rachel, amazed of her own capability. "That should hold you for awhile. You're ok, Triela?"

The girl, however, turns her face away and refuses to look directly to her face. For the past few hours she had seen what she never wished to have witnessed in the first place. In a matter of hours her dream, her vision, and her future crumbles before her as the Agency's ruthless operatives were sent to retrieve her using all means possible regardless of civilian casualties. The organization that once cared for and where she once worked for now became the organization that hunted and enslave her. It was, in her mind, like 'a master who has lost his dog' considering how far the Agency is willing to go. Now she felt the dark side of the Agency, a side where she was not meant to be. Her increasing heartbeat couldn't lie, as she— just like how those who was once up against her in the past — was afraid. Similarly, it hurts her to know how it was her own friend that she feared of.

"…Triela…?"

Rachel's voice brought her back to reality, immediately noticing the tears that drip from her cheek to her hand to which it runs to the barrel of Roland's Walther P230SL 9mm Pistol. The nickel plated gun's silvery white shine has faded long ago as blotches of red now decorates the slide and the grip of the gun, reminding her of Roland's last moments. He gave his life for her just so she could see the light of the next day, just so she could survive the first wave of operatives sent to retrieve her. Just so she could be free.

"Triela, look at me…" Rachel said as she offers her hand. "If Frederick's not on our side, then it's his loss! We have to go. Look at me!"

Her neck tenses as she swallows a ball of spit which forms from the build of tension around her. Her muscles began cramping from the run and the stress she faced seconds ago, while her whole body continuously spews sweat before it mixes itself with her tears or her blood. Taking a deep breath, Triela finally reach for Rachel's hand in response to her offer. Her thoughts were slightly resolved despite having a number of doubts which lingers in her mind considering the overall situation. Smiling softly, Rachel taps Triela's shoulder twice.

"That's it! Cheer up, big girl! Let's get out of here."

With a nod to Fernando, the operative signals her handler the 'ok' and how everything has been taken care of. Silently, with the mere use of body language, Fernando tells the two of them to hustle as they head for the exit. The encroaching sirens grew louder and louder as German policemen and firemen rushes to the scene after the break of the school's alarm system. Soon, the area became a press-magnet to which all reporters and public eyes swarm the area in matter of minutes. Such situation is perfect for Fernando and Rachel to sneak and blend into the crowd before vanishing into thin air and head for the designated rendezvous point.

Stopping his operative and Triela for a second, Fernando gave Triela his long coat and pushes his fedora to her head. "It's best not to show yourself in public; who knows how many 'eyes' the Agency has set-up around the area."

_##_

Blending with the German populace is quite a feat to accomplish, and yet it was not an impossible task for Fernando and Rachel. The overwhelming chaos a few floors up and the ensuing explosion earlier riled up the teachers and students staying afterschool to a panicked state. Men, women and children rushes out of the building like floodwater with little to no organization the moment the echo of Rico's SVD was heard next door. Generally, the Berliners were traumatized with the incident 3-4 years involving international terrorists and the direct intervention of the Bundeswehr to quell the situation. They were confused, fear-stricken and bewildered the moment the gunshot and the explosion echoed across the school and the building next door, reminded of the incident and the toll it had on Berliners. It was a moment of chaos.

"Now is our chance. We'll blend in with the crowd in the midst of the chaos and get the hell away from here!" Fernando turns his attention to Rachel and Triela one last time, giving them a nod and a signal to give their best act as though not to arouse suspicion. "Now…!"

As the dwindling number of crowds leaves the building, so did Fernando, Rachel, and Triela. The police officer and the GSG-9 Police team immediately secures the crowd and kept them accounted for later questioning. Fernando, however, managed to slip away from the police along with Rachel and Triela. Running off a different path, now out of the school's premises, the elder man led them to an alley where a yellow sedan was parked earlier as their escape vehicle. It took them no time at all to drive a few blocks away from the scene with Fernando on the wheel.

"Where are we going?" Triela asks.

"We have a rendezvous point in mind." Answers Rachel from the front seat, "We were thinking about Hillshire's restaurant at first, but we figured it would not be a good idea. One thing for sure, the Agency would be expecting us to be there."

"Returning to your apartment is out of the question. Besides, I have a hunch you're avoiding your apartment due to certain circumstances."

Triela blushes lightly.

"There is a coffee shop near the Brandenburg Gate. Not entirely in the area, but close—we don't want to be too conspicuous near monumental areas. It might be small and not as well known, but it serves as a good rendezvous point as it is pretty much adjacent to the landmark itself."

##

Of all the questions addressed by Fernando, Rachel, and Triela, they were right about one thing: The persistency of the Agency. It was no fluke that no one has survived a month—much less a day—after seeing the ins and outs of the Italian organization. There are some who managed to survive and see further, but those who did perished a few days or weeks later by the very operatives they knew full-well of their capability. Escaping the Agency's clutches is, just as how Frederick described, 'like running through rain without getting wet'.

"Westley here, target spotted leaving the area with the package." reports the man in the dark trench coat and sunglasses through their radio, "Sophie and I will begin pursuit."

"_Affirmative, be sure to stay out of their line of sight—Fernando's quite the problem."_

Their job was finished. After the discovery of Triela's very existence in Berlin and its confirmed presence, the Agency began shifting through documents and files containing their involvement to society. It was a time consuming process for the men and women as well as operatives who were assigned in intel gathering, but their efforts paid off when Nero and Mina _Fratello _managed to extract highly classified documents of the German R&D. Further, Matthew/Muffin team's snooping on John F. Kennedy School grounds reveals who Triela mostly came in contact with and who is usually accompanying the girl when she prowl the school grounds. It was not long after all the facts and evidence was pooled into the Agency's Headquarter in Rome, Italy, did the order came for their liquidation. Westley/Sophia _fratello _team soon became the tip of the spear as they and 2 others were assigned upon liquidating those who were considered to be Triela's closest aides, all for the sake of maintaining 'order' and 'secrecy' of the Agency's operatives.  
And so the order was carried out. Those names who took part in Triela's maintenance and recovery, members of the German R&D, and those who were mere students—acquaintances of hers—were liquidated, murdered by the hands of the Agency. It was, however, not without cover. The Agency pinned an 'expectation notice' to the operatives who were sent to liquidate designated German citizens, requiring them to ensure all murdered civilians were to be document as 'accidents' in the 'official reports' of the German officials. As the officials wonder and news of the string of deaths were being filed by the local police, the operatives of the Agency, 'clean' of any traces of bloodstain proceed towards their primary objective of recapturing Triela.

Hours pass as Westley cautiously trails the vehicle in and around Berlin, crossing the borders between once-East Berlin and passing through 'Checkpoint Charlie' more than once before eventually passing through the Brandenburg Gate and parks on a nearby café. As the vehicle parks, Westley and Sophia—now hot on Triela's trail—watches over their target from a distance. Like a tiger who has found its prey, it patiently waits while silently monitoring their every move.

"Westley here, target spotted entering a café two blocks from the Brandenburg Gate. Judging from how things unfold, they are waiting for a third party."

"_Ehud and Luke?" _reply the voice from the radio.

"Affirmative, sir; Luke and Ehud are currently not in the scene. Right now it's only Fernando, Rachel, and the 'package'."

The radio gives no reply. For awhile, silence haunts the passengers of the vehicle as Sophia became edgy and twitchy as each seconds pass. Moments later, a man in a long coat—approximately 3-4 cars away from them waves his hand towards him. Beside him is a young brunette girl carrying an AMATI violin case. Across the street, about 1 block away from the café, a man nods towards him—similar to the first pair, he was accompanied by a young girl with blonde hair. Not long after, the radio springs back to life.

"_Westley, second team and third team are in position."_

"You mean José/Henrietta team and Klaus/Anna team?" he reply. "Are they the only backup?"

"_Look behind you, up on the roofs." _

A signal light flashes on a building's roof overlooking the café and the alley nearby. Although darkness momentarily blind him from spotting them, he was sure that the figure manning the rifle—presumably an L96A1 Sniper Rifle—was a young male. The man beside him acts as his spotter as he monitors the view for the second time before giving another signal light to Westley's position.

"Vato Falman and Gewehr, I see. They're the third team?"

"_Affirmative" _

"So how should I proceed?"

The radio springs to life one last time, finally handing the death sentence to those unlucky enough to be in the sights of the Agency.

"_You have been given permission to __**strafe **__the café and attempt to kill all occupants. Leave no witnesses. Falman/Gewehr team will clear the survivors, while José/Henrietta and Falman/Anna team will storm the café and finish off those who were fortunate enough to live through Gewehr's aim. Eliminate Fernando/Rachel team if possible, but leave the 'package' alive. Incapacitate her if she refuses to cooperate—you have permission to use firearms to subdue the package if necessary."_

As if a child has just received its Christmas present, Wesley grins devilishly before letting out a chuckle. It was all he ever wanted to hear for both his operative and himself; it was all he need to finally justify himself to Fernando that he is the best _fratello _team.

"_This operation commences at 1920hrs!" _

##

Fernando figured the moment he stepped into his vehicle the possibility of being followed. He wasn't far off with his speculation, and Ehud did advise to stay out of sights for at least three hours before proceeding towards the rendezvous point. Thus, he drove in and around Berlin while stopping occasionally in an underground parking lot for at least 15 minutes and repeating the cycle before proceeding towards the rendezvous point. By the time the clock reach 1900hrs, Fernando was confident to have lost sight of the Agency's trackers and has been sitting comfortably in the café.

"Feel free to order anything." He states to his operative and Triela. "I'll be paying for this; besides, this might be the last time I'm treating you all for dinner."

"Don't say that…" Rachel reply. "It's too sad…we haven't even finish this end of our journey."

Triela sat silently, tensed while intently listening to their conversation as a young female waiter came to greet and hand them each a menu book. She was smiling as she introduces herself in fluent German while recommending her guests the café's specialty. The tensed young girl strangely felt at ease the moment the waitress speak on their behalf of choosing the menu; strangely to her, she notices her short brunette hair and dark brown eyes—a sight which amazes her and terrifies her of the similarity this waitress behold.

"_May I take your order young lady?"_

Though startled, Triela managed to give her best reply. _"A-ah…! Y-yes of course! I'd like a cup of coffee please—with a little milk and sugar." _

"_Thank you. Your orders will be here shortly, please hold." _

As the waiter left, Rachel grins at the sight of the VIP. "You speak good German—I'm amazed, to be honest."

"Thanks. I'm beginning to get used to it while living here, in this country. It all seems to flow more naturally—it's probably much better than my Italian as of now!"

A chuckle, then an abrupt silence as Triela lowers and covers her face with her now-sweaty palm. A slight smile forms under her pale-stricken face followed with a silent giggle. "The world is a small place, huh?"

"…Triela?"

"I can't help it Raych. That waitress earlier…" Triela's eyes unconsciously points towards the young waitress who now serves the other guests. A curve forms on her lips as she examines her every move. "Don't you think she look similar?"

The other girl wonders in confusion as to see what she meant. Soon enough, it didn't take long for her to understand what she meant. "…yeah…"

"She might be around 18 or so. Maybe 20-ish"

"She does look like her…Henrietta, right?"

Triela nods. "Yes. From her posture to her expression…it's all too similar. It startled me a little…"

She pauses.

"…I wonder if we could all live to see our 20s…"

'_BEEP'! _The abrupt warning from the radio interrupts her thoughts and contemplation too suddenly. As Fernando answers the call, Triela's eyes wanders across the entire café as she drifts herself in deeper thoughts. The café itself seemed to have been standing since the start of the Second World War as photos of the 30s and 40s existed and displayed in the walls of the café. However, the main attraction of the café lies in the mahogany counter which serves alcohol induced beverages to those in need of 'refreshment'. It wasn't a big café, really—It only stretches to the side. She notices how late it is the moment her eyes drift towards the grandfather clock positioned at the corner of the café; an ancient one, she thought as she admire the design engraved on the object. It is now 7.18PM. Usually after seven, Triela would have finished her shift in Hillshire's own café and would be making her way home back home to her apartments. Now she felt all was just a dream; all was just a thing of the past.

"What…!?"

"_You heard me Fernando. You are being tracked—__we__ are being tracked! The Agency is playing safe; apparently they plant a tracker in all the SWA-issued vehicles before we all split to search in Berlin a few weeks ago. I found the bugger in radiator of my car—had to ditch it somewhere and acquire a new one. I believe they plant yours in a different location." _

The change in Fernando's tone and the partially audible voice of Ehud from the radio brought a sudden collapse in the atmosphere. It is just as he thought it would be, just as he said would be a month before Triela was taken to the outside world by Hillshire: it's a fruitless effort. It is like 'running through rain without getting wet'.

"Damn! We underestimated them!"

"_I am afraid we have underestimated them a little too much. They are not as shallow as they seem. Remember the explosion about 8 hours ago?"_

Fernando pause, trying to recall his memories of 8 hours back. "Eight hours? Ehud, are you sure? We escaped the school's premises about 2-3 hours before!"

"_I am not talking about John F. Kennedy School, Fernando. I am talking about the explosion in __**Tempelhof-Schöneberg**__ borough!" _Ehud's voice coming from the radio was almost desperate and rash to Fernando's ears. Keeping his composure, Fernando allows Ehud to continue. _"All personnel involved in Triela's operation and its related research on German mechanical body were all __**dead**__. I looked into the last police report just two hours ago considering the explosion in Tempelhof-Schöneberg and how it was reported as an accident involving 'gas leakage'. As far as I'm concern, an explosion that large is not within the scale of 'gas leakage'. Someone's covering all this and forged the 'official' documents."_

"Tell me Ehud, who was the victim?"

A deep sigh came from Ehud. _"Lieutenant Colonel Robert Hanke, now Brigadier General Robert Hanke after posthumous promotion. The Agency seems to be almost willing to start a war between two countries…" _

"…unless we hand 'her' over." Fernando sighs. "I guess the Agency isn't playing nice…"

"_Get out of there Fernando! Every last one of you, get out now! I've pinpointed your location and am heading your way. Once we are close to your location we will…"_

The sound of screeching tire acts like an alarm to Fernando's ears. As the car slides at the turn and head to pass the café at full speed, Fernando's eyes immediately notice the figure in the driver's seat: Westley Scerio. In impulse, Fernando grabbed a hold of Rachel and Triela. "GET ON THE GROUND **NOW**!!"

It was seconds of chaos. Glass began to shatter as bullets riddled through the small café mercilessly—one of which nearly sliced Rachel's ear by an inch. The moment seems to last forever as shards of glass fell all across the floor followed with chaotic screams of bystanders in the café caught within the crosshairs of the gunman. Chips and splinters flies in random direction as bullets graze the wooden counter. In seconds, the beautiful dimly lit café is decorated with splatters and blotches of red as unassuming victims were pummeled and gunned down while some of which died instantly in their seats with a bullet to the head. Those who started running for the exit were immediately gunned down from a distance with Gewehr's assistance. A bullet to the head, stopping anyone dead cold and tumbling like rag dolls.

Amidst the chaos, the girl who mans her modified G3 Assault Rifle laughs hysterically as if enjoying the carnage. "Die, die, DIE FOOLS...! GET SOME! AHAHAHAHA…!!"

As the fire ceases with the car out of sight, Triela finds herself in terror never before. Right beside where she ducked, the body of the waitress earlier stretch lifelessly in the green carpet with bloodstains across her uniform and a face of horror looking—_staring_—at her. Her eyes were wide open while a river of blood runs from her mouth down to a pool of crimson red. The mouth of the girl began to move as if talking to her, silently cursing the terrified young girl.

"_What have you done…"_

"_No, I-I didn't!"_

"_You killed us…!"_

"_I didn't do it! It wasn't me!"_

"_What have you done…"_

"_I DIDN'T DO IT PLEASE STOP…!"_

"Hey, Triela…!" Although startling, Rachel's hand brought her back to reality. Triela was breathing heavily, almost in a state of shellshock and confusion. Once again she checks on the waitress beside her and found that she never moved after the gunfire ceased, and that her mind has been playing tricks to her. At one point, she almost thought that she was going crazy talking to a corpse. If it wasn't because of Rachel, she thought, and then she would surely think it was all true.

However, Rachel knew about Triela's slow digression towards mental delusion the moment she rescued her after her close encounters with Frederick. Sure enough, Rachel understands how her mind began to think that all the deaths and chaos occurring around them is the product of Triela's defection to society. Rachel understands that perfectly and secretly she couldn't help blaming Triela for plunging her and Fernando into this mess, and yet at the same time she couldn't blame her since she desires the same freedom. It was a life she thought they could never acquire, and yet for months Triela has proven that it is something attainable, and that it was all just a matter of choice.

"You're having cold sweat! Are you ok? You've been spouting nonsense ever since the shooting start!"

Regaining her composure, Triela let out a sigh. "I'm fine Raych, thanks. My mind's playing tricks at me…"

"Is everyone alright?"

"We're fine, dad!" reply Rachel. "We're all OK."

"We best get out of here; the front door is out of the question, so we'll use the staff door instead!"

##

Fernando knew the fact that even the most thought of plan would not go as smoothly as originally intended to be. Fernando and Ehud never accounted the possibilities of civilian involvement in any operation involving the SWA. The very thought of attack on a civilian installments is out of the question unless such installment is related to terrorist activities or the likes; attacking civilians itself is mostly prohibited, thus the thought of 'safety in crowds' linger in the minds of both Fernando and Ehud as they plan their actions. Such thoughts were proven fatal not to them, but to those around them. More than 12 were injured or killed in the bar after the strafing run subsides; most of them were civilians and bystanders.

Few seconds later a man stood up in fear of his life. His face was pale, and his steps were unstable as he attempts to make for the door. Few seconds later, 3 shots echoed across the street followed with the crack of glass. The man, pummeled in the head, the groin, and the leg stumbles to the floor as he sighs his last breath with parts of his brain painted across the wall and the grandfather clock. It was a testimony to the Agency's seriousness, a message to Fernando and the rest that escape is all but a dream.

"They've got this place covered." Fernando sighs heavily, checking his left and right. Raising his head slightly over the table, Fernando caught a glimpse of 4 figures moving towards the Café; two of them he recognizes as José/Henrietta _fratello _teambefore being forced to return to cover by sniper fire. "They're sending 2 agents and junior operatives our way. We'll have to get out of here fast or else its over for us."

Fernando rummages through his inventory. "I'll throw a smoke grenade. Wait for the smoke to build before making your way to the kitchen! Stay low to avoid the smoke, and whatever we do Triela is top priority!"

##

The pop of the smoke grenade is the signal for their run. As the smoke begins to build, many visitors began to stand and make their way to the door or the kitchen—most that heads for the door met their fates in the hands of the Agency's operatives covering the building. The smoke, too, is a signal for the Agency's operatives to pace themselves into the battered café and eliminate all witnesses before their objective escape. José immediately orders Henrietta to open a series of suppression fire, while Falman orders Anna to flank the building through the alley as they make their way into the café with Gewehr's continuous precision shots.

The door breaks open, the silenced pistols fired, the witnesses eliminated, the ancient grandfather clock echoes, and the smoke clears.

Amidst the strewn bodies and flesh-painted floor, Fernando, Rachel, and Triela are all out of sight.

##

It was what Triela could describe as 'diving into a shallow pool'. The risk was too great, their position was disadvantageous, and their foes were quick-witted; a combo that spells disaster enough for General Montgomery to call it all off in a shot. Upon breaking into the kitchen, the chefs and staffs were bewildered at the sight of the man and two girls—the man's pistol was momentarily flashed under his coat. It was chaos as the smoke from the café enters the kitchen while men and women of varying ages rush for the nearest exit. Repetitive gunshots echoed outside while shouts and orders were given out by the pursuer as they make their way deeper into the kitchen and out towards the exit. The door was opened, and freedom was at its sight.

Yet the small sense of relief was immediately terminated seconds after they made their way out of the building. Stumbling upon the back alley of the building, a man—a cleaner—dashes pass them in his attempt to run for his life. By the time he reaches the open street, it was by seconds did he realize the harsh reality upon receiving a barrage of 9mm rounds from a young teenager. Similarly, this acts as a sign for Fernando that the enemy is way too close for the slightest bit of comfort.

"Move, move…! We can't stop here, go!" quickly Fernando draws his .32NAA and fires 3 repetitive shots as the figure emerges from the corner. "Run to the apartment and move up the stairs! DON'T STOP!"

The alley was small and damp with one path leading to a dead end and a cheap rental apartment while another leads to the now-empty street. The small alley marks as a great disadvantage for Fernando and his pistol against Anna, who is armed with two MP5K submachine guns. Facing his back against the dead end, Fernando takes a few quick steps backwards with his gun drawn at his foe, once again firing 3 repetitive shots. As he fires his last shot, Anna made a jump for the kill with her twin MP5K screaming for their target. The gun roars silently, sending a hail of 9mm Parabellum to Fernando's way. In seconds, Fernando vaults to the door as Rachel breaks with her pistol drawn and fires her entire clip in a futile attempt to suppress her foe.

Tapping Rachel's shoulder and pushing Triela's back, Fernando calls for the retreat. "Get moving, go! We are not in a position to fight!"

##

The echo of gunshots across the radio sent a clear message to both Ehud and Luke how it all went awry. Frantically Ehud attempted to regain communication with Fernando as he speed his vehicle—their getaway vehicle—towards the café as random words and shouts echoed across the communicator. Previously he has predicted the possibility of the Agency's operatives gaining on them and forces them for a fight, but never did he expect them to catch up sooner.

"Fernando? Fernando can you hear me?"

There was no reply. Only the sound of gunshots and random gibberish answers Ehud's call.

"Fernando!! Answer me, heavens please!"

The crackle from the radio springs to life. _"This is Fernando. I read you."_

Ehud let out a sigh of relief. "Thank heavens! Fernando, give me a situation report."

A sigh echoed through the radio. _"We're currently holding up inside an old apartment behind the café. We're pretty lucky so far…"_

"I cannot agree more." Ehud reply, "Who is your opponent?"

There was silence, followed with a couple of gunshots and automatic fire. Ehud waits patiently for any answer from Fernando as he turns another corner towards the previously planned rendezvous point. It was minutes later did the radio springs back to life. _"It's Anna, the operative of the younger Falman." _

Both Ehud and Luke recognize the twin brothers from their procured dossiers. Although relatively new to the job, Anna was infamous with some staff for her notoriety to carry fragmentation grenades and two MP5K almost anywhere she go. There are rumors circling around her of a split-personality, the product of the Agency's experimental conditioning drugs. Accidentally, it rumored to have awakened a second character inside, a character far more violent and sadistic in the presence of a rain shower.

"How well are you armed?"

"_Not more than .32 pistols." _

Ehud let out a sigh.

"Fernando, I have you tracked in my GPS—assume the Agency is doing the same thing. Get to the eastern corridor and escape the building through the emergency staircase. I will wait down by the alley in a red van!"

##

Triela has never felt anything like what she is experiencing since the start of her new life. The adrenaline, the rush, and the beat of her heart…it was all new yet something too familiar to her. She could recall the days when she would risk her life each day for a promised 'peace' and the 'end to terrorism' back during her service. She was curious of one point or another on what life outside is like, how live would be without knowing or understanding all the political complication and conspiracies the Agency been sent to deal with. In the past, she has been sent to die in the frontlines, totting her shotgun with blind allegiance to the Agency. It was only a thing of the past.

Now the same group of people she placed her allegiance to is her worst nightmare.

"Run towards that window and don't stop!" orders Fernando as he fires his gun towards the pursuer. "Rachel, stay close with her!"

The corridor leading towards the window feels like a mile away, as if it slowly distances itself from her. As Rachel grab hold of her arm, Triela felt the tensing nerves of the young soldier dedicated to her job. Her face was stern, checking back and forth to the path behind her and the window ahead of her as the sound of ricocheting bullets around Fernando frightens the safety of her father at some point. The moment she reach the window, she releases Triela's arm and made a 360 degrees turn. "Get out of here, go! Look for the red van and jump down!"

Triela nods in response.

The darkness and the void of the alley alarmed her of the lack of life that surrounds her. It was then did she notice how they are alone, and that they are quickly running out of options.

##

"The van's not here!"

Rachel vaults the window and uses the wall as cover, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "DAMN!"

Firing her .32 caliber, the girl covers the retreat of her handler as best as she could. As Fernando retreats, her foe leaps out of cover with eyes as dark as the pale moon and a fiery killing intention. Her aimed shots were quickly swatted and ignored as she attempts to take the man's life. Carefully Rachel aims for a lethal chest-shot in a desperate attempt to cover Fernando. The gun fires, sending the projectile flying at high speed towards her opponent before impacting her with full force and sends her tumbling backwards. The red van shows up and honks a couple of times as Fernando vaults the window.

The girl, despite having received the full impact from a .32 caliber, stood up as if nothing had happened. A hysterical laugh echoed across the hallway.

"Kevlar…damn…" He quickly turns to Rachel. "Jump, now!"

His finger tenses, and his sights were aimed at his target with a killer instinct at mind. As Fernando fired a couple of shots, Rachel grab hold of Triela's arm and leap out of the staircase and down to the first floor, beside the van.

The girl, however, continues her pursuit and regards nothing of Fernando's cover fire.

Quickly she tosses a fragmentation grenade to her path ahead of her and uses an idle door as cover. Fernando's quick reaction enables him to survive the first explosion, but was immediately caught off-guard by a barrage of fire from Anna's twin MP5K. The firing stops seconds later, but as he is about to break his cover to return fire, Anna has reached the window far too close for comfort.

"Mother fu-"

Stopping her knee kick with his elbow, Fernando was immediately pushed down to the floor of the staircase. It was one of Anna's execution methods, a mean of pushing the opponent down to the floor and blasting her guns right up to his face. The twin guns were drawn, and his life is at risk. In a matter between life and death, Fernando uses his available feet moments before he touch the steel girders and kicks her away from on top of him. Immediately touching the floor, he aims his pistol towards his flying opponents and pulls the trigger once, twice, thrice, accurately pummeling his foe with 3 rounds of .32NAA before quickly recovering. Anna fell, down to the 1st floor with little support and with a loud 'crack' before blood spills around her.

Fernando let out a sigh before jumping down from the second floor and into the open van.

"Glad to have you with us, Fernando." Greet Ehud in the steering wheel. "It has been quite a predicament, would you think so?"

"We've been underestimating the capability of the Agency's agents. They're far more dangerous than what I expect—I can assume she's one of the newer additions."

"I can tell…" Ehud quickly set his eyes ahead of them. "She is back on her feet."

Bloodied, tattered, and wounded, the gruesome scene is something reminiscent from a horror movie. Between the headlights of the car, Anna stands with blood trickling down her head, her face, and all around her wounded body. She struggles to lift her still-functioning right arm, her gun aimed towards her opponent.

"Go go, go, go, GO!!" Fernando taps Ehud's shoulder in haste. "STEP ON THE GAS!!"

The van screeches, its tires burns, and it immediately speeds up towards the girl in a desperate attempt. Anna stands at her ground, arm shivering as she lifts her MP5K towards the blinding light coming towards her. Her finger was too weak to respond quickly enough, and as she realize the reality she's faced with, it was all too late. She felt the bones within her—the mechanical body—snaps and cracks as she is flung violently towards the cover and to the windshield, leaving a bloody mark in the process before finally tossed aside in the alley, bloodied and weak.

##

The van sped through the night, out of the alley and on to the street. The windshield attempts to wipe the blood on the screen that never seems to come off, persistently setting itself. The patch of blood on the glass reminded her of recent events in the 'slaughter house'. Triela look back through the window behind her, her mind drifts into a dilemma of the right and wrong. She couldn't understand the reason why there are those who would continuously support her in her pursuit of freedom. Now, she felt it was once again ripped out of her hands.

"…say, Rachel…?" she starts.

"Hmm…?"

"Do you think…I deserve freedom? Such luxury…?"

Rachel sighs. Opening her arms, she hugs Triela and taps her back a couple of times in a motherly way. "There, there…I understand how you feel. I think you do; we all do."

"Yes but…" Triela sighs, "Is the sacrifice of many worth the freedom of one?"

Rachel smiles warmly, almost warmly like a mother towards her child.

"Then don't let them die in vain."

##

The café, now a mass grave for many, was set ablaze. José and Henrietta were the last pair to leave the structure and were highly responsible for eliminating any evidence involving the massacre. As forged documents detailing the incidents were being processed, the café burns in the dark, quiet street of Berlin as echoes of a fire truck approaches from a distance. José let out a sigh of resentment, his communicator vibrates in the dark.

"José here," he start, responding the call. "Jean, the package has escaped. We've confirmed Fernando/Rachel _fratello _team's involvement in the whole affair; Falman/Anna team is on pursuit of them."

"_Anna's down, José; we found her in the alley not far from your position. But not to worry, Gewehr has identified the vehicle as a red van, possibly a ford. Proceed with the pursuit."_

"Am I expecting reinforcements?"

There was a moment of silence. Inaudible chatters on the other side of the radio can be heard momentarily before the voice returns. _"Westly/Sophia fratello team is already in pursuit; YOU are their reinforcement. We will attempt to herd them into the old fireworks factory and warehouses, and proceed with the operation at the location." _

"Understood; José, out." Clicking his intercom, José turns to Henrietta. "Are you ready? I know deep inside you prefer not to engage Triela or your friends face-to-face. I'll drop the mission if you choose not to fight."

Staring deep into his eyes, Henrietta blushes slightly and shook her head. She strengthens her grip on the P90 and smile, "If it is what you were asked for, then it is what I'll do. It's ok…"

"Are you sure?"

"I don't mind."

José frowns, slightly feeling unpleased of Henrietta's answer and her blind allegiance. Extending his arms, José embraces Henrietta tightly and pities her purpose of existence, while at the same time he scorn his past way with Henrietta. Enrica's gone and this he knows, yet all those years he tried to transform his young operative into his deceased sister in order to relive those moments between brother and sister.

And he failed miserably.

Henrietta's an entirely different person than what his sister is. Enrica doesn't have Henrietta's blind allegiance and would definitely reject his proposal according to her own standings and belief. He can tell her to do the exact same thing as Enrica, but he will never be able to change Henrietta as her. He suddenly felt miserable through all the years he has spent with her, and he knew it was all too late.

"José…?" The shy, dumbfounded brunette looks up towards him. Under his embrace, Henrietta could feel his heart beat. "A-are you ok…?"

"I'm alright."

José sighs.

"Let's go."

As the fire burns brightly in the night sky, the pair leaves the crime scene as the echoing sound of a fire truck grew louder and louder. Soon, the press and the media will be upon the area, covering the incident. The bodies would soon be discovered and an autopsy would be performed on the victims of the fire, and at some point the truth would be uprooted and revealed. But no matter; the press will not bother them, nor will the police or the fire department. The Agency has them all prepared, ranging from forged reports up to false testimonies in order to cover their involvement in the incident. In the end, the incident will be treated as another random accident involving a malfunctioning circuit breaker and would disappear from the minds of the public and officials. It will be years to come before the immoral acts of the Social Welfare Agency is revealed to the public, and by that time such acts were nothing more than a flicker of a dying memory in the minds of the general population.

**Author's Note**

Is this story dead? NO! Is this finished? NO! Will I stop writing? NO! When I say i'll get it done, I'LL GET IT DONE.

My editor told me that someone attempted to blackmail me to stop writing this fic by apparently tracking my ID with the use of an IP address. Almost stopped writing, but my editor convince me to keep up with the work. Good thing is, I registered using this universal ID. That's right, 'Panzer IV' ID consists of a group of diverse student/authors composed into one ID for maximum efficiency. So if one get the news/review, we all get them and we all will work together to achieve the best quality in terms of story, editing, and text-quality.

But anyway...

We're pretty much up in the climax. Things will start to go downhill from here, progress will be slow, and characters WILL start dying in future chapters. So TUNE IN!

Kanpaii~

-Panzer IV-


	20. Omake Chapter: Our Christmas

**The Detective's Daughter**

**Omake Chapter: Our Christmas **

The clock ticks slowly as each second passes. Sitting quietly inside her unlit room, Triela stares out towards the horizon beyond her room's window. Her mind drifts towards the unknown as she thinks of a thousand possibilities she could've experience outside the Agency. How would her life be like? Would she make more friends than what she has? Would she be able to go to school?

'What about Christmas…?'

Those were the thoughts that have occupied her mind for a couple of hours. It is the 24th of December, Christmas Eve. For years, it has been a tradition for the operatives of the SWA to spend their Christmas outside the threshold of the Agency. Some prefers to take their operatives outside of Rome; others take theirs to the Vatican to participate in the occasional Christmas mass, or would either be strolling in town with shopping bags as a form of a reward for their hard work. However, she knows that some agents would prefer to spend their Christmas with their respective families, leaving their operatives behind in the care of the Agency. Others, in a more selfish manner, prefer to complete their paper works assigned to them.

Hillshire is amongst them.

"…_Hillshire, you're the worst…" _she sighs, resenting to her current fate _"This just has to happen huh? Spending Christmas Eve alone in the dormitory…"_

The thought of her friends' words irritates her even further.

"'_Sorry, Marco and Jean's taking me somewhere', Claes said. That goes for Rico too. 'I'm spending Christmas Eve with José in downtown. Sorry!', said Henrietta. Geez, José's beginning to look more and more like a pedophile each day…"_

She pause her train of thoughts for a moment before proceeding. _"Rachel and Muffin's out of town since this morning. God, I hope they CHOKE a turkey for not telling me!" _

Triela sighs.

"…_and Frederick…? Oh, don't get me started on him. 'Sorry, I'm going to the Vatican for the Christmas mass. I can take you there with me if you want to…' he said. Well, that is understandable…is it? NO! Why is the Vatican of all places? Why couldn't it be somewhere much more interesting like Piazza di Spagna, or Roma Termini, or somewhere! Damn it, could you stop being such a 'responsible' operative once in awhile and give in to your greed? Seriously! TAKE ME SOMEWHERE!!" _

Letting out a long sigh, Triela rests her chin on her hand and sit unfazed. Of them all, she was more frustrated with Hillshire than any of her friends. Never having a real father to remember by, Hillshire has always acted as her father figure, the man she could turn to in times of need. He is her shoulder to cry on when her friends aren't here, and he too, is her conscience in some of the most gut-wrenching missions. He was more than her officer, her handler, her commander. To her, he was her blood father, and would always be such in her eyes.

Having decided to choose his job more than her, Triela felt left out.

"I swear, the next time I see him I'll put up the usual 'hmph' attitude."

Despite her constant emotional ravage, the young girl felt lonely inside her dormitory. Gazing out the window, she remembers the time when she saw a family of three strolling around the street. She remembers the face of the young child, sweet and innocent. Clearly she could tell how this child resembles that of her mother. Then she began to wonder…what would it be like to have a family?

How does it feel living with a normal family? How would 'home' feel then?

"…bah, humbug…"

##

The door to her dormitory creak open, and a figure stands with her coat and shopping bag. Letting out a sigh, she fixes her glasses and finds the switch to turn the lights on. Triela knew it was her roommate, and thus didn't return the slightest bit of response from her return. "I'm home."

Without giving any further reaction, Triela replies. "Welcome back."

"Do you seriously have to be _that _dramatic just because you didn't get the chance to be outside?"

"…go home, Claes."

"I am home."

"Then leave me to my misery…"

Claes sighs, chuckling in between. "You and your what-the-f moments…they never change."

Triela turns her attention towards her roommate as she began to unpack. She eyes her brand new reading material, her new scarf, and a pocky snack. Clicking her tongue, Triela let out a sigh. "Is it wrong for a girl to ask just for once from her father or her boyfriend to be out asked out somewhere?"

"No, I guess not…" Claes reply as she takes bite from her pocky stick. "…but this you being spoiled, huh? Want some?"

Triela sighs. "You think a chocolate stick would cheer me up? I can't believe I'll be spending Christmas Eve with you of all people…"

"At least it's better than sulking in the corner now, is it?" Claes takes another bite. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with two girls spending Christmas together in one room."

"That sounds wrong, Claes…"

Claes let out a cough, apparently chocking to her snack. "Now I wonder…"

Resting herself on the second floor of her bunk, Claes lie silently with her brand new book in hand. Hastily, she reads the chapter as the clock ticks further into the night. To Triela, the silence is deafening. The thought of not having to go anywhere during Christmas Eve is enough to irritate her even further, knowing her friends managed to spend some of their time in laughter, worship, or in glee. Noticing the clock struck eight, Triela sighs finally resigning to her definite fate.

##

About an hour later, Claes stops her reading and climbs down from her bunk. After equipping her boots and her jacket, she then proceeds upon waking Triela with a rock. She could tell how was asleep, clearly exhausted from the pressure she placed upon herself. Rocking her lightly, Claes attempts to wake her slumbering roommate from her dreamland over and over again until finally, Triela gave in to her constant disturbance.

"What now Claes…? Haven't you had your fun today?"

"I want to ask you favor."

Irritated, Triela position herself upright towards Claes. "What is it?"

"…could you accompany me to the restroom?"

Her words were immediately acting like thorns in her ears. It was the least she wanted to hear from her as she clench her teeth and fists together. She immediately turns herself away from her and rests her head back to her pillow and completely ignores Claes. "Go do it yourself. I'm tired…"

"Please? There's this scene in the book I can't forget so…"

Triela shifts her view back to her. Clapping her hands together, Claes grins. "…please?"

##

Eventually she gave up to her request and waited for her outside the dormitory's restroom. The cold bothered her, and yet she didn't wear any jacket or proper insulation. It is only her and her pajamas, and that is enough—she thought—as insulation against the freezing weather. About a minute or two, Claes reappears from the restroom with a sigh and a stretch, clearly relieved of her pressure. Triela let out a sigh, thinking how it all ended this way. "So are you done?"

Claes smiles, "Not quite. I want to get a glass of hot cocoa from the cafeteria. Mind accompanying me one more time?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Triela gave a shrug as her answer, telling her to do whatever she wants to do.

"Ah, one more thing…"

"What is it now…?" reply Triela with an irritated voice.

"Are you sure you're fine with just that?" Claes said, pointing to her garments. "With just pajamas…?"

"I'm fine! I'm heading to bed after this anyway…so why bother?"

The pair began walking from the dormitory towards the main building of the Agency. Annoyed, disturbed, and irritated, Triela couldn't help mumbling words of insult as she accompanies her merry friend in the cold. She never did question the reason why she was wearing full attorney or why she smells sweet, nor why she is feeling merry. She noticed her silent laughter from time to time as they were getting closer towards their destination.

Eventually, the cafeteria was just a doorstep away…

##

The lights were on, the candles were up, the food is warm, and bottles of champagne were lined up at the table. At the center of it, a Christmas tree—brighter and warmer than what Triela could imagine—stands tall and grand amongst the group of familiar faces. Triela's eyes widens, partly in awe and another in surprise. She could immediately tell the faces of those who were present, faces of her friends which stands like portraits extended across a large canvas. All eyes were directed towards her as she gazes upon the entire room full of those whom she cared for, whom she loved. She immediately realizes how life wouldn't be any different here than it is outside.

These were here family. She was home all along…

"…Muffin! Rachel! I-I thought you guys are…." She darts her eyes across towards another. "Henrietta! Rico! Petra! Weren't you with your handlers? Frederick! And I thought you went to the Vatican..."

Claes let out a reserved chuckle. "And you thought I'd be scared reading 'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi'?"

Turning her attention towards her roommate, Triela looks at her puzzled and confused within the entire ordeal. Resting her hands on Triela's shoulder, Claes smiles gently. "Christmas wouldn't be the same without everyone here, would it?"

"We got home early for Christmas." Rachel said as she steps forward from the crowd. "I mean, it'd be nice if we all could spend Christmas Eve together and all…"

"I kinda' felt the same way…" Follow Muffin while she attempts to hide her reserved emotion. "You know…well…I don't think it would be the same if I were to spend my Christmas without…everyone."

"I can go to the Vatican tomorrow, so no worries. Isn't that right, Luke?" turning his attention towards a figure in the crowd, the German smiles in delight as the Israeli steps out. "That is absolutely."

Like electricity running down her spine, Claes leaps in surprise towards to the sight of her beloved. "L-Luke…! W-w-when did you get here!?"

"I met Frederick in Rome. He's thinking of going to the Vatican earlier…well, Ehud and I were in for the same purpose." Luke let out a chuckle. "But we're thinking of having it tomorrow morning."

"We bought you a present Triela~!" exclaim Henrietta. "Please wear them tomorrow ok?"

"I convinced Sandro to return home." Petra said. "I mean, I like warm places…"

The crowd began to talk, laugh, and converge as they blend together. Triela was mostly awestruck, partly embarrassed for coming without proper attire. And yet, during this cold winter she was enveloped with warmth and kindness from the individuals around her. The sight of Claes and Luke holding hands in the crowd, Rachel and Muffin's all-too-common tease with one another, the laughter and talk with Henrietta and Rico, as well as the uncommon humor of Frederick. Most of all, she could remember the smile on her 'father' as she lift a glass for her.

"…Hillshire…"

He let out a warm smile while lifting the glass of champagne. "I know you wanted to have this kind of gathering, so I planned it for a couple of days. Sorry for keeping it as a secret."

"Humph!" is her reply. "But…thank you."

"Merry Christmas, Triela."

Triela let out a sigh before she smiles courteously, "Merry Christmas to you, too."

##

The constant rocking of her body alerts her and wakes her from her dream. Looking away towards the window, Triela frowns and slumps her figure. She remember how she was in a van, speeding away from the clutches of the Agency just minutes ago. She figured how she must've felt exhausted before eventually falling to a short slumber. It was a memory of a long time ago, a memory of her days in the Agency. A memory she wished to remain true for the days to come.

"You're awake. Are you feeling alright?" Rachel asks curiously. "Is everything ok?"

"I'm fine…" she reply, hesitant.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just…" Triela let out a sigh. "I just dreamt of a memory from a long time ago…"

She let out a sigh.

"…a dream which will never return..."

**Author's Note**  
**This is more of a 'bonus' chapter (hence 'omake', or 'bonus'). I tried on making it slightly sweet and touching, but I think I don't have that many capability after having myself occupied with essays, visual novels (CLANNAD, especially. Darn it's sad...), and video games (MW2 anyone?). So yeah...**

**But here it is! The Christmas Omake chapter. While reading the 2nd last paragraph, try listening to:**  
Ana OST in Youtube

Its the insert song for CLANNAD, and I was listening to that while writing this chapter--I believe it fits perfectly.

Sore ja...MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Signed,  
Panzer IV


End file.
